


The Legend of Zelda: The Craft of War

by allen_bair



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 115,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allen_bair/pseuds/allen_bair
Summary: Link and Zelda have been forcibly dragged into the world of Azeroth by an unknown power. There, they will find themselves allied on opposite sides in the conflict between Horde and Alliance as they search for the one who brought them there, and find a way back home. Also has elements from Stargate: Atlantis and Kingdom Hearts





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

The grass was a mix of sharp and soft on the palms of his hands and through the off white woolen breaches that he wore, as the green clad, elven figure felt his awareness return to him.

 

 _What happened? Did Epona throw me?_ Thoughts raced through the young man’s mind. _That’s not like her at all._

 

He opened his sapphire blue eyes groggily. His reddish, dark blond head pounded as though someone had hit it with a sledgehammer (it wouldn’t have been the first time). Reflexively, he began to clench and unclench his gauntleted hands, testing his fingers as his senses returned to him.

 

The chain mail shirt he wore under his green tunic felt like it was twice as heavy as usual as he slowly pushed himself up off the ground and onto his knees. Pain shot through his arms and chest as he did so, but not the kind of pain he would have felt had anything been broken. He knew that pain all too well. But his arms and torso had definitely taken a beating of some kind.

 

What had happened?

 

He searched his mind for the last thing he could remember. In his mind’s eye he saw a girl, a young blond woman with high pointed ears like himself, and similar blue eyes wearing a pink and silver top with a royal crest emblazoned on it and woolen riding pants. It had been a warm summer day, and they had been out riding near the castle. Or, more accurately rather, she had decided to go riding, and he had gone with her for her own protection, not that he had minded.

 

 _But where is she?_ He asked himself. If Epona had thrown him, she wouldn’t have just ridden off and left him there in the grass. Then that thought led to darker ones…

 

 _I have to find her!_ He tried to stand, but fell back to his backside on the grass. His legs refused to take the strain of his weight just yet. Panic began to set in as he fought with his reeling senses to look around and get the lay of the land around himself.

 

His eyes took in the sights around him. He was sitting in a grassy, manicured lawn. _Okay, so not Hyrule Field_ , he realized as his mind reluctantly processed the images his eyes were feeding him.

 

The sky above him was clear, and the sun shone freely. Not far from where he sat he could see a line of trees which marked the beginning of… an orchard? Woods? He couldn’t tell from this distance. His keen ears picked up the sounds of water running nearby. A river? A stream? In the distance, but not too distant, jagged hills rose like barrier walls around the valley that he realized he was in. He turned his head to the right and to the left trying to identify where he was, but none of it registered as being familiar.

 

“Do you need help, friend?” A kind, masculine voice asked from behind him. “Your landing looked kind of hard.”

 

The broad shouldered elf turned his head and body around painfully to see who was speaking to him, using his hands and knees to support himself. The long blue and gold sword scabbard hanging beneath a blue, gold, and red crested shield on his back dragged in the ground, obstructing his movements.

 

When he was able to turn and see, there was an older, Ordonian man with a graying beard, balding head, and kind eyes bending over slightly with an outstretched hand. He wore a white robe with gold trim as though a Sage or someone whose profession was religious in nature.

 

“Was it your first trip by portal, my son?” The man asked, his hand remaining outstretched. “You look like you hit pretty hard when you appeared.”

 

The young elven man took the outstretched hand that was offered and allowed the elder religious man to help him to his feet. The man was stronger than he appeared to be.

 

“Thank you.” The green clad elf responded shakily, still feeling dazed and off balance. “I’m not… I’m not sure what happened or where I am.”

 

“Overshot Eversong a little perhaps? Well, no matter, the Light calls all as its children regardless of their race... or politics.” The man responded, placing a steadying hand at his back, “I am called Brother Garen. And your name, friend elf?”

 

A warmth spread from the man’s hand throughout the elf’s body and the aches and pains he felt began to fade and disappear. Soon, he felt stronger and more steady.

 

“Eversong?” The elf repeated. The name meant nothing to him. The elf searched his mind for the memory, surprisingly it took several seconds before he was able to get a word out, “Link. I’m called Link.” Then, after a minute he asked, “Where am I?”

 

“You’re in the grounds of Northshire Abbey in Elwyn Forest, Link.” Brother Garen replied. “And that places you in a bit of a pickle if you try and leave here on foot, friend. Stormwind hasn’t been friendly with Silvermoon for many years as I’m sure you know.”

 

“Stormwind? Silvermoon? I don’t understand.” Link responded as he continued to look around. “I don’t recognize this place at all. I was riding with...” he paused, realizing he ought to be careful as to how much he said, “a girl like myself. Blond hair, blue eyes, wearing a pink and silver tunic and riding breeches.”

 

“I’m sorry, friend, but you are the only elf to appear today.” Garen replied.

 

Link continued to look around him, but the princess who had been his charge was nowhere in sight. “I need to get back to her.”

 

Near them stood a stately stone building with a bell tower, gabels and arches which Link recognized as being meant for some kind of religious purpose. Blue banners with a golden lion image emblazoned on them hung from its walls. Standing near the blue painted double doors of the entry were a man and woman dressed in full plate armor with blue and white tabards displaying the same lion crest.

 

Other people, similarly dressed to Brother Garen, went about their business around the well tended grounds. Some stood watching him with looks of concern on their faces. Others, men and women of various dress and occupation seemed to pay the religious man and he no mind as though this might be a regular occurrence for them.

 

Brother Garen looked at his face, studying him as though studying a puzzle needing solving. “Where are you from, Link?”

 

“Castle Town... in Hyrule.” Link responded. That was true enough, though he hadn’t grown up there it had become his home.

 

“Hyrule...” Brother Garen repeated, trailing off the word thoughtfully. “I can’t say I know for certain where that is, though it sounds vaguely familiar. I’m afraid my knowledge of geography isn’t as good as it should be. I’m not as well traveled as some of my brethren. Is it in Kalimdor? Or Northrend perhaps? In any case, there is a mage from Dalaran staying here at the Abbey who may be able to open a portal to send you back before too much of an incident may be caused.”

 

“Incident?” Link asked becoming wary. “I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”

 

“You really don’t understand, do you my friend?” Brother Garen asked. “A ‘Blood Elf’ as your people call themselves now, here in Elwyn Forest? That can’t remain quiet for long. We here at the Abbey may offer sanctuary, but only for so long.”

 

“My people call themselves Hylians, after the goddess Hylia.” Link responded, growing increasingly on his guard. He then asked, “Where is this ‘mage’ you spoke of?”

 

“Inside the abbey, the last I saw him.” Brother Garen’s face wore a skeptical look as he viewed Northshire’s new visitor. “He’s probably in the library perusing our shelves.” He then said and turned, gesturing towards the white stone and blue trimmed structure. “We have a good collection of obscure volumes here, many of which were rescued from Alterac and Stromgarde in the north before their fall. Many scholars come here from all across the Alliance to study our works.” There was a note of pride in the elder man’s voice.

 

 _More_ _name_ _s_ _that means nothing to me_ , Link thought to himself. Out loud, he said, “Please, would you take me to him?”

 

“Of course, my son.” Brother Garen replied, and began to lead Link towards the Abbey doors.

 

As they approached the fully armored guards standing near the doors, one of them, seeing Link’s sharp ears more clearly, stepped towards him and drew a broadsword which Link could tell was well honed. “Stop!” The guard announced in a decidely self-important tone, “You’re under arrest, Horde scum!”

 

“Peace, Garrett!” Brother Garen batted the guard’s sword to the side without a thought. “I have invoked sanctuary. This young man is under the protection of the Abbey for now regardless of his race or politics. He is obviously here by a simple portal mishap, not a Horde invasion. We’re going to see our resident mage to send him home as soon as possible. Please, stand aside.”

 

“But he’s a Blood Elf! And he’s armed!” Garrett protested. “He could be a spy!”

 

“Not according to him.” Garen responded. “Stand aside so we can straighten this mess out, or I can take it up with Marshall McBride… and inform him of your late night at the Lion’s Pride in Goldshire with a certain young lady...”

 

Garrett stiffened and backed away. “How…?” He asked in a hoarse whisper under the face plate of his helmet.

 

“The innkeeper and I have known each other for a long time.” Brother Garen replied innocently. “So, are there any more objections?”

 

Garrett backed up against the stone wall of the abbey and quickly shook his head.

 

“No? Good. I would hate to see you removed from Northshire to a less amiable posting.” Brother Garen continued, though his gaze shifted wordlessly to the other, female guard who had remained silent throughout the encounter.

 

Not waiting for another response, Brother Garen led Link through the Abbey doors. As he did, he remarked to the female guard, “Please give your father my best when you see him, Lucinda.”

 

Link could hear a distinct “huff” (and an armored foot stomp?) as he and his escort passed through the doorway.

 

The two went in and around a defensive barrier wall into the main hall. He then led him through another hallway off the main hall which opened up onto a spacious room lined with bookshelves. A staircase lined one wall leading up to a second level. Brother Garen headed for the stairs.

 

“Khelden Bremen is usually to be found among the shelves upstairs. There is a particular kind of magic that the mages of Alterac used to specialize in which he is researching, though I haven’t the skill in arcanery to understand exactly what or why.” The religious man explained. “My studies were devoted to holy pursuits.”

 

“Is he an Ordonian like yourself?” Link asked. He had never seen an Ordonian skilled in the use of magic before.

 

“Ordonian?” Garen asked, confused. “Now it is my turn to be confused. What do you mean by that?”

 

Link then pointed to his own ears, and then to Garen’s which were clearly rounded and much smaller than Link’s own.

 

“Is he human, do you mean? Yes, he’s human.” Garen chuckled. “You tend to find a lot of us here in Elwyn now,” then his voice took on a more melancholic note, “especially since we’re the last human kingdom left.”

 

There was such a resigned sorrow to the older man’s voice, Link could only respond, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

 

The old man stopped on the stairs and turned to look at the elven man behind him.

 

“No,” Garen replied seeing the sincerity in Link’s eyes, “I believe you didn’t.” After pausing for another minute, he turned and continued up the stairs saying, “Come, my son. Let’s get you back to where you belong. If Khelden Bremen doesn’t know how to get you back, he almost certainly will know who does.”

 

They emerged from the top of the stairs and made a right along a railing and into another chamber of the library. Like the one they had just exited, it too was lined with bookshelves. On the far wall stained glass windows let the bright daylight in in various colors, though not enough to bring light to the whole chamber on their own. Several candles in various holders around the room played that role. In the middle of the room stood a large rough hewn wooden table with a few equally rough hewn, but well used chairs positioned around it.

 

One of those chairs was occupied by a dark haired man in azure blue robes. He was hunched over a large, red, leather bound volume on the table with yellowed vellum pages. He appeared to have taken no notice of the two intruders, though the sound of Link’s boots on the wood and stone floor echoed through the room.

 

“Maester Bremen?” Brother Garen asked aloud, though respectful of intruding on the man’s solitude.

 

If the mage had heard him, he gave no indication of it. Instead, Link could hear a quiet whispering coming from the table, though he couldn’t make out the words being said.

 

“Maester Bremen?” The religious man asked again, a little louder.

 

The whispering stopped, though the man still gave no other indication of having heard. But this seemed sufficient for Brother Garen as he continued. “There’s a young man here who has more need of your skills than of mine. It appears there was a portal mishap.”

 

“Indeed.” The mage responded. “And this was important enough to interrupt my research… why?”

 

“Because the longer he stays here, the more of a problem his presence may become.” Brother Garen replied.

 

“So, send him packing then, and leave me to my work.” The mage replied, still not looking up from his book.

 

“Yes, well there are special circumstances involved regarding the shape of his ears.” Brother Garen replied, some bit of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

 

“The shape of his what?” The mage finally looked up and away from his book to face the two intruders. Link could see then that he was also, in fact, “human” like Garen, and wore a large mustache which seemed to be trying to become a full beard, but the man’s chin wouldn’t cooperate.

 

“I see now what you mean.” The mage then said as he took in the green clad young elven man. “Yes, I’m sure young Garrett outside was thrilled to meet our new guest.”

 

“So...” Brother Garen began again, intending to explain Link’s situation to the mage. He never got the chance to form the words. The clanging of the Abbey’s bells ensured that.

 

Suddenly the mage jumped to his feet, an alarmed look in his eyes, and Brother Garen’s expression became very serious as he said in a whisper, “No… Not now.”

 

“What?” Link asked looking around again. “Why are the bells ringing like that?”

 

“Because we’re under attack.” Brother Garen replied.

 

* * *

 

“Careful there now, elf girl.” A kind, yet raspy, matronly voice said gently. “You shouldn’t move too much just yet.”

 

Pain shot through the lithe young woman’s body as consciousness returned to her mind. It jolted her as she attempted to move her fingers and open her eyes. She wanted to cry out for the pain, but found that she couldn’t. She slowly willed her bright, royal blue eyes open to a somewhat blurry world.

 

“You landed hard, girl. Shaggara is surprised that you survived it at all. It will take some time.” The voice said again.

 

The young elf woman slowly tried to turn her blond head towards the direction of the voice. But all she saw was a blur of brownish green in a somewhat distorted Hylian, or maybe Gerudo form. She opened her mouth to try and speak and found the words hard and whispered,

 

“Wh...” It hurt so badly just to say that much, but she had to force herself to continue. “Wh… where am… am… I?” It came out as a harsh, quiet whisper, but it was coherent enough.

 

“You’re lying in Shaggara’s bed in her home after she found you face down in her swine pen all battered and bruised. Shaggara didn’t know a Blood Elf could turn such colors.” The voice chuckled slightly.

 

“Wh… Who… are… are you?” The young woman asked, her mind confused and hazy. She thought she heard the woman call her a “Blood Elf.”

 

“Shaggara thought that was obvious young one. It is her house after all.” Shaggara replied.

 

The young woman then heard the sound of glass, or maybe ceramic vessels being used and jostled. “Now that you’re awake, perhaps Shaggara can help ease some of your pain.” Shaggara said kindly. “Shaggara is no healer, but she was taught by a great shaman once how to brew a simple healing potion from herbs that grow around her house. Drink, girl.”

 

The young woman could feel a smooth vessel being pressed up against her lips and she parted them as best she could to allow the liquid to flow into her mouth. Instantly the pain in her head began to recede, and as the liquid flowed through her mouth and down into her throat, the healing spread throughout her body and she could feel the ability to move more freely again, even if she was still a little sore.

 

The young woman’s vision cleared, and she looked again into the face of her benefactress. It was like no face she had ever seen. The woman’s skin was a brownish green, taut and muscled, with only a few wrinkles here and there to indicate maybe middle age? Her eyes were small and inset to her face, and they were a blue like the deepest part of the sea. As she looked into those eyes she saw a fierceness, a passion, and a depth of wisdom she knew in few others, as well as compassion. Her nose was short and squat, and the woman sported small yellowed tusks from her bottom jaw. Her head was shaved bald except for a warrior’s braid of black hair streaked with gray she sported from the back of her head. Shaggara’s ears were pointed, though not as long as the young woman’s own. She was both beautiful and monstrous, compassionate and ferocious all at once. She wore a leather tunic over a muscled, athletic build, and rough leather breeches.

 

“How do you feel now, girl?” Shaggara asked.

 

“Better, thank you.” The young woman replied, her voice steadier and more confident.

 

“Good. Shaggara has used that potion many times. It saved her life more than once in battle.” Shaggara told her as she turned to return the used bottle to a shelf on her wall. “Now, Shaggara would like to know who you are, and how you landed in her swine pen.”

 

A name came to the young elf woman’s mind, and she said it aloud, “Zelda, my name is Zelda.” In spite of the potion, her mind still felt hazy, as though her memories were trapped in a fog.

 

“Zelda is it? Strange name for one of the Sindorei, but then Shaggara thinks all elf names to be strange.” The woman smiled as she turned back to her charge, revealing rows of sharp yellowed teeth.

 

“Sindorei?” Zelda asked in confusion. “Who are the Sindorei?”

 

“You must have landed harder than Shaggara thought. Perhaps your head needs stronger potion than Shaggara can brew.” Shaggara said with some concern. “Sindorei is what you are, girl. Though many of your kind now call themselves Blood Elves in honor of all of your kin who were murdered by the Scourge.”

 

No, that didn’t sound right to Zelda at all. She searched her hazy memory but came up with nothing. Instead, another word to describe her people surfaced, “Hylian,” she said. “My people are called Hylians. My land is called Hyrule.”

 

“Hyrule?” Now it was Shaggara’s turn to be confused. “Shaggara’s travelled from one end of this world to the other. Shaggara has even traveled to her ancestral home in the Outland and spent time with her Mag’har kinsmen. Shaggara has never seen or heard of any land called ‘Hyrule’.”

 

Zelda slowly propped herself up with her arms. She was still sore and stiff, but her body was no longer screaming at her. Her mind began to race and whir at this news. If she wasn’t in Hyrule or anywhere near, then where was she?

 

“Shaggara, what is this land called?” She asked her host.

 

“You’re in Durotar girl, a day’s ride south of Orgrimmar.” Shaggara responded. Then seeing the blank look of non-recognition in Zelda’s eyes, she said, “in Kalimdor.” Still seeing no look of recognition, she then said, “This world’s called Azeroth by most; but judging by your expression, Shaggara can see that you don’t know that name either.”

 

“No.” Zelda responded.

 

Shaggara studied Zelda’s face for some time. Then she said, “You don’t know how you got here, do you girl?”

 

“No.” Zelda said again. “The last thing I remember was riding my horse in Hyrule Field with… with my bodyguard. The next thing was waking up in pain here.”

 

Shaggara took a seat cross-legged on her floor next to the sleeping mats and furs Zelda had been laying on which she had generously called a bed. “Shaggara thought you were noble born, even for an elf your shirt is finely tailored, and the crest sewn into it reeks of royalty. Shaggara has little experience with magic herself, but she knows it when she sees or hears of it. And this stinks of powerful, dark magic. Perhaps some sorceror tried to take you and something went wrong? Or maybe something went right for you, because you came to Shaggara and not to the sorceror? Perhaps what gods or powerful forces there may be are watching over you, Zelda of Hyrule.”

 

“Perhaps they are.” Zelda replied quietly as she reasoned through Shaggara’s logic and found it sound. Except, as her mind began to clear, she had a piece of the puzzle Shaggara did not. A piece which might explain the “why” of the attempted abduction. And if that was true, then her “bodyguard” might have also been dragged here as well. Whether the third bearer was… She didn’t know if that was even possible. His prison was outside of normal time and space. But it was finding Link, if he was truly here as well, that would be the most pressing matter.

 

“My bodyguard, Link. He may have been pulled here as well. It’s important that I know for certain. He and I share… a certain bond.”

 

A look of thoughtful understanding passed over Shaggara’s face, though she said nothing for several minutes.

 

Then Shaggara spoke up again after some musing of her own. “Shaggara knows of a mage in Orgrimmar who may be able to help you find your friend, and a way back to this “Hyrule” you speak of, Zelda Noble Born. A mage Shaggara would trust with her life. Shaggara would take you there, if that is where you wish to go.”

 

“That is generous, Shaggara, but you have done so much for me already.” Zelda told her reflexively, though she knew it wasn’t the wisest response. She was in a foreign land with no reference points to speak of.

 

Shaggara smiled a half smile, “So, Zelda knows her way around Shaggara’s world without help now? You have all the gold and supplies you need to find this ‘friend’ of yours?”

 

Not giving Zelda time to answer, Shaggara said, “Shaggara thinks not. It would be Shaggara’s shame to let you wander this land on your own. Too many honorless orcs these days who would take advantage of a pretty one such as you. No. On Shaggara’s honor, she will accompany you and see you safe.”

 

Zelda looked into Shaggara’s eyes and saw a determination there and thought she understood. Shaggara had been given a responsibility, a quest, whether she asked for it or not, and she was going to see it through regardless of the cost. Her personal honor demanded it of her. She nodded in acknowledgment, seeing any further argument would offend the proud warrior woman.

 

“Yes, Shaggara will keep you safe in her land, Zelda Noble Born. She will see you home.” The Orc woman told her with a finality to her voice.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

Fires were burning in the stands of trees across the river from the Abbey. Among the fires could be seen hundreds of hulking armored shadows armed for war. As Link stood on the opposite bank near the abbey with what few guards and armored soldiers there were, he knew instinctively these people would be overrun.

 

None of them appeared to have been battle tested before, except perhaps for the one in the more decorated armor which indicated his rank as the commanding officer. Marshall McBride sat mounted on a warhorse among his men surveying the scene, seeing the same thing Link was. His countenance was stern, and Link could tell he was resigning himself to his fate. Even Garrett who stood near by him who had been so keen on arresting him; Link’s keen ears could hear the young man shaking so hard in his armor the joints were clanking together..

 

In spite of the unfamiliar location, and Link’s disorientation, they were sights, sounds, and smells that he knew all too well. They were the stuff of the nightmares which kept him awake at night. Dreams of places and battles that he knew he had witnessed and fought, but knew equally well that he hadn’t. They were dreams that both terrorized him, and gave him meaning.

 

Next to him, Brother Garen held a staff of intricate design and detail. He appeared to be in some kind of a meditative trance, perhaps in prayer to the “Light” that he had talked about. The mage, Khelden Bremen stood on the bank as well, chanting what Link believed to be some kind of protection spell, though it didn’t appear to be going as well. There was too much of the look of fear about the mage, and the words stumbled as they came out of his mouth.

 

To their rear and behind them near the Abbey itself were regular farm folk, priests, and religious all preparing themselves for a battle they did not know how to fight much less win. In the background, Link also heard the cries of a young babe in arms, its mother trying to reassure it even while trying to keep herself calm as well.

 

Link then became aware of a mounted rider in armor pulling up next to him. He was well muscled under his plate armor, and his eyes were hard but not unforgiving. He wore no helmet, and his head was shaved clean like a man accustomed to war. He wore a light brown mustache and goatee. It was the man Brother Garen had called Marshall McBride.

 

“The Blackrock Orcs hold no allegiance to either Alliance or Horde, elf. If they cross that river, they will not think twice of slaughtering you any more than they will of slaughtering the rest of us here.” The man gestured an armored gauntlet towards the unarmed peasant people behind him, in particular the mother with her babe. “Regardless of your people’s differences with mine, if we stand together we may survive this day. If we let those differences divide us, we will surely die. What say you elf? You look like you know how to use that fine sword and shield you carry, and your eyes and calm manner in the face of this tell me you’ve done so many a time before. Will you stand and fight with us as our people once did many years ago?”

 

Link nodded gravely. He hadn’t considered the possibility of not fighting. A warm burning sensation crested on the back of his left hand, his sword hand, and all fear left his being. There was only the task at hand.

 

“I will fight with you. I will not let these innocents die.” Link pronounced slowly, and with a deadly solemnity.

 

Marshall McBride straightened up in his saddle, taken aback by the elf’s demeanor and gravity. This was no ordinary elf warrior, he decided. He nodded at him, and went to join his own soldiers, none of whom appeared to have nearly the wherewithal the foreign elf did in the face of combat. He hoped the young man’s presence would be the deciding factor in their favor.

 

He drew the ornately wrought sword he carried and, pointing it towards the wooden bridge which led to the other side of the river he shouted, “Forward men! For the Light!”

 

With his left hand Link drew his own sword from the sheath at his back, known to most in his land as the Master Sword, which had been his companion for many, many adventures. His shield went to his right arm. At the same time, his pulse slowed and the world around him seemed to slow down as his senses were heightened. Immediately, he could see that the men marching towards the bridge would be decimated almost as soon as they crossed. Hidden among the burning trees were orcs with crossbows and long weapons that resembled cannons. They were just waiting for the men to come into range.

 

“Marshall!” Link called out to the leader of the soldiers, but either he didn’t hear him, or he chose to ignore him. Either way, he continued his ill fated advance.

 

Link’s mind went to work as he looked around for resources and options. Then he spied another horse, a bay gelding by the look of it, nearby being ridden by a farmer who held a pitchfork as threateningly as he could. Faster than most would think possible, he leaped towards the man on the horse, and knocked him out of the saddle, taking the reins himself.

 

“Hey!” The man yelled from the ground on his back, his pitchfork several feet from his hand.

 

But Link didn’t respond as he turned the horse and kicked at its flanks. Surprised, the horse then realized its new master actually knew how to ride him, and responded by launching itself into full gallop in the direction Link wanted to go. Link gave little thought to the poor farmer on the ground except that he had probably just saved the man’s life. If the man had carried on with his own plan to die bravely in battle, that’s exactly what would have happened.

 

The horse galloped at full speed, racing towards the small column of men the Marshall was leading, and then shot past them and onto the bridge. If the Marshall had said or responded in any way, Link didn’t hear or see. His entire focus was on his first set of targets.

 

Once across the bridge, Link gauged the horse’s speed and distance and then he got his feet up and onto the saddle, and riding for a few seconds in the crouching position he brought the Master Sword and his shield into his hands again and jumped as far and high as he could, using the horse’s momentum to carry him even farther and higher forward, twisting his whole body into a spin with his sword as he leaped until “Thwack!!” He felt the Master sword strike its tree hidden target true and half of the orc’s unarmored head fell away from its body and the orc fell from the branches it had been hiding in as Link landed behind the tree on the ground in a roll to protect himself from the shock and impact of the high fall.

 

He then sprang to his feet again, and hearing the click of a crossbow’s trigger, his shield went reflexively in the direction of the sound and then next thing he heard and felt was a bolt hitting his shield and bouncing off.

 

Without conscious thought, he found himself next to the orc behind a nearby tree who had fired the weapon and within seconds, that orc found its innards laying on the ground next to its quickly dying body. He then felt the pull of his sword towards the next orc who turned its attention to him, and then that orc too fell at his feet less than whole.

 

Seeing the new upstart threat, all the orcs who had been focusing on the bridge and the small, insignificant army which dared to cross it, then turned their attention to the elf warrior who showed no fear of them and whose blade was all too quick to spill their blood.

 

Suddenly, the air around Link became alive with arrows and shot aimed at him, but his instincts and reflexes, enhanced by the power of courage that coursed through him dodged and danced around each one, and every time the Master Sword swung, another of the Blackrock attackers fell.

 

Somewhere in the haze he heard a raspy deep voice shout out “Demon! They have unleashed a demon from the void upon us!”

 

The next thing Link felt was an orc’s face being bashed in by the shield he carried. The orc slumped to the ground, never to rise again.

 

Then Link found himself surrounded by several of the creatures that he could now see so clearly. They were huge, and well muscled. Their skin was a bright greenish hue. They had faces like gorillas, but with huge yellow tusks that protruded from their lower jaws. All of them carried enormous axes or swords, such that he knew none of the humans on the other side could even lift. They had abandoned the encroaching army of peasant soldiers entirely, seeing him and the only real threat to them, and they all were running at him, screaming war cries with abandon.

 

Link raised his sword high in the air, summoning a divine power he barely understood, but knew its potential in battle. Soon, the Master Sword radiated a holy, pure energy. Then, time slowed down for him as he brought that divinely charged sword down and began to spin with it. As he did, the energy began to unleash itself with a holy vengeance upon all those who would slaughter the innocents he had taken it upon himself to protect. Waves of pure light flew from the sword striking all those within its reach. And as he finished his spin and landed, steadying himself, he returned to his senses and the battle rage had passed.

 

When he looked around him, all he saw were the decimated corpses of orcs around himself. Dozens? Hundreds? He didn’t know. He couldn’t count them. But in the distance he could hear the clear, raspy cry of “Retreat!! Retreat!!” And he knew it was over. They wouldn’t be returning. Not today.

 

And then all was silence as he surveyed the carnage he had wrought. Not so much memories as feelings flooded his being. Feelings of familiarity, like he had been here before and he would be here again, in this moment, doing the exact same thing, protecting those who could not protect themselves.

 

He looked down at himself. His green tunic and white breeches were covered in red blood and gore that were not his own. It wasn’t the first time, and he knew he would see it again, late at night as he woke in a cold sweat. Such would be his existence.

 

He then looked up and towards the old wooden bridge. There stood the soldiers and Marshall McBride on his horse. None of them moved so much as a muscle. The Marshall’s face was filled with… what? Fear? Awe? Respect? Relief? Some combination thereof? Link didn’t know that either.

 

The scene stayed like that for several minutes, and Link cleaned his sword as best he could with the cloak of a dead orc laying near him before he sheathed it. Then, leaving his stunned men behind him, the Marshall rode up to meet the lone warrior. Upon reaching him, he then dismounted. The “look” still upon his features.

 

“My great thanks, Paladin, and my great apologies for myself and my men.” He told him in a humble and emotional voice.

 

Link said nothing at first. Then he replied, “I only did what needed to be done to protect the innocent. There is no need...” He trailed off, seeing that his words were having little effect. He then said, “You called me ‘Paladin’. Why?”

 

“For one so obviously in possession of the Holy Light to be its warrior, how could you not be? I have heard of the Elven Paladins before, but never have I seen such power or courage displayed before now. And to fight in only a chain mail shirt and leather gauntlets under those clothes! Gods man! Ask of me any boon, anything for this and you shall have it. I swear it on my honor.” Marshall McBride told him.

 

“I only want to find my companion and go home.” Link responded. “To Hyrule.”

 

“Then on my honor, Sir Link, I will see both desires fulfilled or die in the attempt. I owe you my life, my daughter’s life, and the lives of my men and their families.” Marshall McBride told him. “I am at your disposal.”

 

Seeing he truly had an ally in his new quest, Link responded, “Thank you, Marshall.”

 

“Now, let us see about getting you some fresh clothes, or at least cleaning these.” The human told him, gesturing his hand towards Link’s shoulder. “Come, friend.”

 

* * *

 

The metal, stone, and wood walls of Orgrimmar rose menacingly before them as Zelda and Shaggara drew closer. Several watchfires could be seen burning brightly upon them, and well muscled, armed shadows could be seen patrolling them. They were still a good distance away, and already the Hylian could tell that this was no small village or town. It seemed to dwarf even Castle Town, and that was the largest city she had experience of.

 

The sun had gone completely down over the barren, rocky red horizon over an hour before. It had been a starkly beautiful sight. Zelda had thought they would make camp, but Shaggara had wanted to press on explaining, “Orgrimmar is not far now. A good friend of Shaggara’s keeps a clean inn with good food. You will see.”

 

It was Zelda’s first experience riding the huge, wolf-like canine the orc woman called a “worg”, but it wasn’t so dissimilar from her horse, Starfire, though she found it quite a bit furrier and lower to the ground. The one she rode was gray like the timberwolves which roamed the forests of the outer edges of her homeland. It reminded her of another wolf she had known as well, one dear to her heart.

 

As they drew nearer to the great gates, Zelda had feared that they might be closed after dark, like Castle Town’s were but no, they were wide open, though many warriors, like Shaggara though larger (Zelda guessed they were the males of her species) stood guard over them. When they had slowed down, she asked about the gates being open after sundown.

“Only fools dare attack Orgrimmar. It is a city of warriors born and bred.” Was Shaggara’s amused response.

 

They rode through the massive gates and around the barrier walls. Huge, well muscled and heavily armed Orc guards patrolled the entry way loop as they rode by. Zelda felt more than one pair of eyes follow her as she rode behind Shaggara, though none stopped her or questioned her presence there.

 

They rode on and through the passage and into an open valley. Throughout the valley were great metal and stone structures of all sizes. There were those which were clearly shops, some she thought might be homes, and others she couldn’t determine their function. In the center of the valley stood a great fortress, imposing and intimidating and dominating the entire scene in front of her. Though, as they rode slowly by, she heard Shaggara snort at the sight of it. Over the whole valley there seemed to be a red haze or hue.

 

Shaggara led her to a two story building along the eastern wall of the valley, not far from the gates. It seemed well kept up and the sounds of drinking and rough but friendly banter could be heard from inside, occasionally punctuated by bursts of hoarse laughter. Out in front, several riding animals of various types were tied up. There were a couple of worgs like she and Shaggara rode, but also a large reptilian creature that stood on two legs with a large head and rings of sharp teeth. Shaggara rode up to this tie up and dismounted, motioning for Zelda to follow. She then moved to tie both of their worgs alongside the others.

 

“The Broken Tusk is safe. Shaggara trusts the innkeeper here.” Shaggara told her as the orc woman secured their mounts.

 

The two women then walked through the open doorway to the inn. As they came into the establishment, the feeling Zelda got from the inside was a combination of civilized and feral all at once. There were several low tables, though no chairs to sit at. Instead, what guests there were sat cross-legged on the floor on clean, well kept furs. The room was decorated with edged weapons which had obviously seen combat. Were they trophies? Candles and torches assisted in the lighting of the otherwise dim common room. Towards the back, a bar which seemed overly large and stocked with bottles containing liquors of every color imaginable dominated the room. Off to one side, a staircase led up to a second floor.

 

Behind the bar, another orc woman was carefully cleaning a mug, though Zelda could tell her eyes were never far from her guests. Like Shaggara, she too was tall and well muscled, and wore a stylish,low cut leather tunic, and blue dyed leather breaches with some kind of yellow trim. Her head was also shaved bald except for a single warrior’s braid which extended from the back of her head.

 

Upon sensing new visitors, the orc woman looked up and a great smile broke out over her tusked mouth.

 

“Shaggara, my sister in battle!” The innkeeper shouted in their direction, and though a few eyes turned no one seemed to find her greeting out of place. She then came out from behind her bar and approached Shaggara eagerly.

 

“Gryshka, my sister!” Shaggara returned. “It has been too long.”

 

The two clasped arms and then embraced.

 

“That is not my doing, battle sister. You come to Orgimmar from your pig farm far too little.” Gryshka replied, chiding her.

 

“Retirement suits Shaggara.” Shaggara returned simply.

 

Gryshka released her friend and then asked with an amused expression, “So then, what brings the mighty Shaggara out of her retirement today?”

 

Shaggara motioned towards Zelda. “Perhaps we can speak somewhere more private?”

 

A serious expression crossed Gryshka’s face as she eyed the young elven woman in her mudspattered, yet obviously fine raiment.

 

“Come, follow Gryshka.” She said, and motioned for the two newcomers to follow her.

 

Gryshka led Shaggara and Zelda to an opening hidden by thick furs and leathers that led to a set of private rooms behind the bar. There were a few furnishings here, most notably a table, a chest, a bookshelf with a few volumes. To one side was a sleeping mat of furs and Zelda could see feathers jutting out from underneath the furs. The walls were decorated with edged weapons and pieces of armor. Around the table were more furs for sitting upoin. This is where Gryshka motioned for Shaggara and Zelda to sit down.

 

When they did, Gryshka sat opposite them and said, “Talk battle sister. Have no fear of listening ears here. None dare to enter Gryshka’s private room without her permission.” She gestured to the edged weapons on the wall, and Zelda could then see traces of dried blood on the edges of the blades.

 

Shaggara then proceeded to explain how she found Zelda, and Zelda filled in the gaps as to where she was from and what her last memories in Hyrule were.

 

Gryshka snorted, “Dark magic. Powerful dark magic, battle sister. To rip someone from their world. It reeks of it.”

 

“Shaggara believed so as well. Much of this we saw in Northrend did we not?” Shaggara said.

 

Gryshka nodded, looking at Zelda. “The mages of Northrend… yes, very powerful. But the Kirin Tor polices there own there, in Dalaran.”

 

“If I am here, there is a good chance that another is here as well, a companion of mine. Is there any way to tell if he is here, and where he might be?” Zelda asked. “We were together the last thing I remember before waking up here.”

 

“That is a question for a mage, and Gryshka is no mage, elf girl.” The innkeeper snorted. “She puts her trust in her own strength and steel. But,” she said pensively, “she knows one that she trusts, but he is not here in Orgrimmar. Not the last time she heard, at any rate.” Gryshka replied.

 

“You speak of Gereth?” Shaggara asked.

 

Gryshka nodded. “Last I heard, he traveled west towards the Barrens. Perhaps as far as Thunderbluff. That was a week ago.”

 

“Are there no other mages in Orgrimmar?” Zelda asked, a little confused.

 

“Plenty!” Gryshka replied. “But none that Gryshka knows will not sell you for spell ingredients and spare parts. Orgrimmar has changed since Warchief Thrall left Hellscream’s son in charge, and not for the better. No, better to take the time and find Goreth. Orgrimmar is not even safe for orcs these days, much less pretty elf girls, allies or no.”

 

Shaggara nodded her agreement.

 

“Before you go chasing after him, there is another who would want to see you again, Shaggara. It has been some time since Matron Battlewail has laid eyes on you, and she is not getting any younger.” Gryshka told her. “It would be shameful to arrive in Orgrimmar and not pay her a visit.”

 

“Yes, of course. Shaggara will see her tomorrow, with the little ones.” Shaggara told her.

 

“Good. They always love to hear the stories of our adventures.” Gryshka told her, and then said conspiratorily, “even the true ones.”

 

“Those are the least believable.” Shaggara said, and then laughed.

 

Zelda took in the good natured talk between the two orc women. It seemed to contrast so much with what she had been taught. In her world, the two women would be seen as monsters at best. Here, it was clear to her that they shared a bond as sisters, and that sense of family and honor was of utmost importance to them.

 

After some more talk between the two women, Gryshka insisted that Shaggara and Zelda stay with her in her own rooms that night where she could be assured of their protection, rather than in the short hammocks and beds upstairs which were in a common sleeping area.

 

“It wouldn’t have been a problem when Thrall ruled the Horde in Azeroth, but these days are different.” Gryshka explained. “Honor means something different to the younger warriors than it does to us.”

 

Zelda thanked her graciously for her hospitality, though Gryshka seemed to shrug it off.

 

“Do your people treat guests any differently where you come from?” Gryshka asked. “No friend of Shaggara’s will come to harm under my roof. Those who try...” She then motioned to the weapons on her wall with a wicked grin. “They aren’t just for show, elf girl.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

“AARGHH!!!” The green skinned man cried out in pain as consciousness returned to him, his fiery red head thrown back as he did so. His whole body felt as if it were on fire, or as if someone had dropped him from the ruins of Skyloft without any means of a soft landing.

 

As he tried to sense past the pain, he found his arms were raised high above his head and, try as he might, he couldn’t move them much. His wrists were fixed. As he tried the muscles in his legs and feet, he found them fixed as well.

 

Someone had dared to bind him?

 

“Oh, you’re awake. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come to. Not that it would make a difference to my work.” A melodic male voice spoke off to his left.

 

The prisoner, as he realized that was what the owner of the voice meant him to be, forced his eyes open and the world in front of him was a blur of reds, tans, and golds. There was a large green blur off to his right.

 

“Yes, you landed quite hard in my laboratory. I imagine your vision is quite blurred from the impact. Quite frankly, I’m surprised you’re still able to see straight at all.” The voice continued, and the prisoner could hear bottles rustling along a table.

 

“To be honest, I hadn’t expected the spell to bring you, that is, a _person_ through, but it is no matter. From my experiments on you while you were unconscious, you are carrying the thing I was looking for, so all I need do is extract it. Though, I daresay it will likely cause you even more pain.” The voice continued to explain nonchalantly, almost wistfully.

 

 _Carrying the thing…?_ The prisoner tried to think through the haze of pain. _Power_ , it came to him. _He wants the_ Power _I carry. That is why he brought me here. Well, if he wants it so much…_

 

The prisoner began, as much as he could, to focus the power he carried and channeled his innate magic through it. The pain he felt decreased, and his vision cleared as he did so. He then pulled against his restraints, intending to demonstrate for this upstart just how that _Power_ was wielded, and…

 

“Ugh!” The prisoner wrenched against the chains that bound him, but they would not give. He tried again, pushing all the power within him against them. The manacles and chains glowed white with the force being put upon them, but they wouldn’t budge.

 

“AAAHHH!!” He shouted in rage.

 

“Interesting.” The owner of the voice spoke again. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother trying it again, regardless of how much power you put into your magic. Though I must say the artifact you carry amplifies your own power much more than my instruments can detect, and that is impressive. But you might as well relax for the moment. Those chains are forged of trillium hardened ghost iron, and enchanted with spells few of even my people know. Not even an immortal titan could break them.”

 

The prisoner looked with rage towards the upstart, and noted the upswept pointed ears and pale skin of a race he hated with a depth not even he understood. The man’s hair was a reddish blond, and he had only the wisp of a goatee. He wore long purple robes inscribed with runes that the prisoner did not know, which itself made him uneasy. The upstart was standing in front of a long metalic worktable covered in various implements of alchemy and sorcery that the green skinned man recognized only too well. Off to the right, the green blur had cleared into a large, man sized green crystal that glowed with its own power, and appeared to be tethered to the tan stone walls and marble floor of the man’s laboratory.

 

“Hylian scum.” The prisoner spat. “I am Ganondorf!” He announced as though the world should tremble at his name.

 

“Hylian?” The man questioned, ignoring the man’s own name for the moment. “Well, that is a new one. I shall have to research it. Perhaps it is found in the same text in which I discovered the existence of the artifact you carry within you. The one capable of granting any wish I make.”

 

“Did you not hear me?!” Ganondorf raged. “I AM GANONDORF!”

 

“Yes, I heard you quite clearly the first time, and quite frankly I don’t care what your name is. After all, there’s a good chance you won’t survive the procedure anyway. So, what does it matter?” The not-Hylian elvish looking man said as he turned back to whatever it was he was doing at his table.

 

At his workbench, the magic wielding elf began to hum a tune while he worked. Then after a minute he stopped and said, “I suppose since you told me your name, it would be ungracious of me to keep mine to myself, especially if you survive the procedure. I am called Duazhen by my kin.” He then turned back to his work and continued humming.

 

And for the first time since he was a small boy, when the great sandstorms of the Gerudo desert had terrified him and threatened to destroy his whole world, Ganondorf began to know what it meant to be powerless, and afraid. As Duazhen hummed, images of the wide open desert and its powerful sandstorms threatening to engulf his small child’s frame filled his mind.

 

* * *

 

The sun rose red across a lightly clouded sky over Orgrimmar that morning. It was partly hidden through the haze of the orc city’s ever burning forges and smithies which churned out master crafted weapons and armor for its warrior citizenry.

 

Shortly after dawn, the city’s population of races and peoples from all across Azeroth began going about their business trading, training, teaching, and just living their daily lives as best they could.

 

Zelda saw a tall, strong orc male leading a green skinned child with brown hair tied back into a ponytail no taller than her waist. The larger orc’s hand gently but firmly grasping the child’s smaller and more delicate one. She wondered where they were going.

 

As she followed Shaggara up the rock and gravel pathways of Orgrimmar, she saw a tall, thin blue creature with tusks more pronounced than the orcs wearing an apron. Though she didn’t know for certain, it looked male to her. The creature was bent over some packing crates in front of a shop filling out some papers.

 

Another, short green creature that she might have taken for a Bokoblin looked as though it was attempting to repair a wheeled mechanical contraption of some kind which sat against the side of the road. It wore a leather belt with different kinds of metal tools. She watched as it looked at the machine with a scowl on its face and scratched its chin. Then he looked her way, and seeing her staring at him he smiled a great toothy smile and gave her a thumbs up sign.

 

Embarassed, Zelda shyly returned the sign and then looked away quickly.

 

Shaggara led Zelda into a great natural crevice which the city had taken over and built itself into. The sunlight filtered hazily down into the crevice so as to give it a constantly twilit feel. Zelda found herself uneasy with it, though she wasn’t sure as to why.

 

They continued to walk for some ways until they came to a structure which had been carved into the eastern side of the crevice wall. A couple of small orc children, a boy and a girl Zelda guessed, played with wooden swords and axes near the entrance, reinacting battle after battle. As the two women approached, they stopped and stared at Shaggara in particular with a kind of awe.

 

“Shaggara!” The girl shouted with glee. “Shaggara’s here!”

 

“Are you going to tell us a story? Please Shaggara?” The boy chimed in excitedly.

 

Shaggara grinned. “Perhaps Shaggara will tell you a story, little ones,” the orc woman said as she knelt and stroked the back of the girl’s head. “But first, she must visit Matron Battlewail.”

 

The children then turned their attention to the woman they didn’t know. “You brought a friend, Shaggara? Does she tell stories too?” The girl asked.

 

Zelda smiled and knelt down to the girl’s eye level. “I do, little one. Would you like to hear one?”

 

“Are they Sin… Sindor...” The girl seemed to struggle with the unfamiliar word, but then finally got it out correctly, “Sindorei! Are they Sin-dor-ei stories? We’ve never heard any from the elven lands before.”

 

“Well...” Zelda looked at a loss as to how to explain her predicament without disappointing the girl.

 

“Shaggara’s friend is not from Silvermoon, but Shaggara has no doubt that her stories will be exotic and exciting nonetheless.” Shaggara spoke up, coming to her rescue. “Come, let us speak with the matron, and then you will get your stories.”

 

The children’s eyes went wide and then they both rushed into the building calling out, “Matron Battlewail! Matron Battlewail! Shaggara’s here and she brought a friend to tell us stories! Come!”

 

“They’re adorable!” Zelda said. “Is this a school of some kind?” She asked.

 

“This is Orgrimmar’s orphanage.” Shaggara replied. “These two children are but a few of dozens the matron cares for in her old age. More are added it seems every time I visit.” Her voice took on a haunted tone.

 

“Oh.” Zelda said, not sure of what to say after that. Castle Town in Hyrule had a small orphanage as well, and it was well funded by her father. But she could always count the number of children there on one hand, two when it became full.

 

“Matron Battlewail raised Gryshka and Shaggara long ago in the internment camps after the first invasion by the Horde into Azeroth, after our parents were killed by Alliance, human, soldiers. We were her first orphans. Somehow, even after truces and treaties are signed by both sides, she continues to receive more young ones to look after.” Shaggara told her, the orc woman’s voice weary and tired.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Zelda told her, still at a loss for words.

 

“The past is the past. Shaggara honors both the mother who gave her life, and the matron who raised her as a mother. But Shaggara worries for these little ones. Matron Battlewail is strong, but old. Even one strong as her does not live forever.” Shaggara replied. “Come, let us see Shaggara’s adopted mother, and then maybe you might entertain us all with a tale of your land.”

 

Zelda nodded, “Of course. I would be honored to.” She said.

 

* * *

“What do you mean you can’t open a portal back to his homeland?” Marshall McBride stood with arms crossed, demanding answers from the Abbey’s resident mage.

 

“I have to know where this ‘Hyrule’ is before I can create a link between here and there, and I’ve never heard of it.” Khelden Bremen explained, yet again, in his own defense.

 

“I thought you’d traveled all over this world and Outland, mage. Perhaps your tales were a little taller than you’d led us to believe.” McBride countered.

 

That morning, the Abbey’s military commander, Link, Brother Garen, and the mage were all back in the library chamber the mage had virtually converted into his own private study. The night before had been a victory celebration of sorts, and a better welcome for their new elven guest, though he insisted on being called Hylian. Now, Marshall McBride was attempting to make good on his promise, and the mage seemed to be less than helpful this morning.

 

“Don’t insult me Marshall.” What seemed like lightning flashed briefly in the mage’s eyes. “I am a member of the Kirin Tor lest you forget.”

 

“Then what is the problem, master mage?” McBride responded.

 

Khelden took a breath a let it out slowly, trying to calm himself. He then got up from where he sat and went to a bookshelf which stood against the wall. Fingering the volumes, he stopped on one large, thin one, and then withdrawing it from the shelf, brought it back to the large wooden table and opened it up, laying the book’s pages bare for all present to see. He then twisted his wrist and spoke a word almost imperceptibly over the book and a soft white ball of light appeared over it, illuminating the pictures. As the rest of them glanced at the pictures they saw that the book was an atlas of their entire known world.

 

“Show me where this ‘Hyrule’ is if you please and I will gladly send him there just to get you out of my hair.” The mage said, frustrated with the whole thing. “I believe Outland is on the next set of pages. Please, feel free to show me something I do not already know.”

 

The other three men studied the place names that were so familiar to at least two of them, though Link found himself unable to read them at all. Garen and McBride went over the map of their world thoroughly, and then to Khelden’s amusement, McBride turned the page looking for Outland to pour over that map as well. Finally, after some time had passed in silence, the Marshall conceded the mage’s point and nodded.

 

Mollified, the mage then said, “If this Hyrule does exist, it is not in any world that we know of or have in the public record. This is not an impossibility. The libraries of the Kirin Tor record many, many worlds and lands that are not public or common knowledge.” He then added reluctantly, “including my own knowledge.”

 

“Why would they keep such knowledge from the rest of the world?” Brother Garen asked.

 

Khelden gazed at Garen as though he were an ineffectual pupil whom he needed to tutor. “Because my dear brother priest, knowledge is power. And knowledge of certain worlds and powers is extremely dangerous were it to fall into less than responsible hands. Better to let such knowledge remain locked away and forgotten than let it loose among those who cannot handle it.”

 

“But your fellow mages in Dalaran might know then?” McBride pressed. “Could you open a portal for us to Dalaran to ask them?”

 

Link looked at Marshall McBride in surprise and then back to the mage.

 

“Yes, if it will allow me to go back to my research then yes! I will even write a letter to my brethren in Northrend giving my full endorsement of you if only you will leave me be!” Khelden announced in exasperation.

 

“Wait!” Link then spoke up, looking back and forth between the both of them. “What about Zelda? My companion. I am sworn to protect her. I must know if she is here, and if she is, then where.” He pleaded with them.

 

“Of course you must.” Brother Garen interjected paternally placing a hand on Link’s shoulder. “Surely, Maester Bremen, there is some way you can help in this matter as well?”

 

Khelden let out a sigh of frustration, but then said calmly, “Yes. That much should be easy. Do you have anything that belonged to this companion of yours, a trinket, a piece of cloth, anything?” He asked Link.

 

Link thought for a moment, and then reached into a pouch he carried on his waist and withdrew a folded blue silk handkerchief. He then handed it to the mage saying, “She gave me this.”

 

“Indeed. A favor from a lady of means. No wonder you wish to find her so badly.” Khelden said non chalantly.

 

Link’s face blushed crimson as the mage took the piece of silk cloth and balled it into one hand. He then closed his eyes and passed his other hand over it saying a few words that were indecipherable to even Link’s keen hearing. The blue silk seemed to glow in his hand as the incantation reached its end. Then the mage’s eyes opened, his expression became serious.

 

“She is here in Azeroth.” Khelden pronounced.

 

“Where?” Link asked.

 

“In Kalimdor. I could not see exactly...” He began to say but the Marshall cut him off.

 

“Tell us where mage. I know how accurate the locator magic is. You could tell me what room and what floor in the exact building in Darnassus if you so chose.” McBride demanded.

 

“Fine. She is in Orgrimmar. Right now, she is visiting the orphanage in the Drag if that makes you happy.” Khelden said flatly. “But there is nothing I can do to help you beyond giving you this information.”

 

“What? Why not? You could just open a portal for us and...” McBride began to say.

 

“Absolutely not.” Khelden said flatly. “Apparently I need to remind you that the Kirin Tor takes no sides and honors the treaties signed by both Horde and Alliance. I will not chance breaking them by being an accomplice to you setting foot in Horde territory. Or do you relish war so much that you would see the Horde invade your little corner of Azeroth once more?”

 

“Now see here, mage,” McBride’s voice began to raise as his face blanched, “How can you justify leaving the lad’s lady in the hands of those Horde beasts?!”

 

“Better that than have not just hundreds, but thousands of those Horde beasts landing at Stormwind’s docks because you wanted to play the hero and rescue her!” The mage returned the shout.

 

“Is there another way?” Link asked, trying to bring reason.

 

His voice seemed to cut through the tension and both men looked at him.

 

“Is there another way for me to reach Zelda?” Link asked again. “One that doesn’t invite a war?”

 

McBride sighed and then said, “None so direct as a mage’s portal, but yes. It would take much, much longer though. Days, perhaps as much as a week to reach Durotar and then we would need to find a way into Orgrimmar itself.”

 

“And by then, who knows if your lady would even still be there?” Khelden pointed out.

 

Link thought for a minute, and then asked, “Is there a way to track her? I mean like a compass? Is there some way of telling where she is regardless of where she goes?”

 

Khelden thought for a minute and then passed his hand over the handkerchief once more, this time speaking gently to it. He then passed it back to Link saying, “Here, the silken cloth wants to find her now as much as you do, young elf. It will lead you to wherever she may be.”

 

As Link received the cloth, he could feel it tugging on him to the west as if to say, _she’s this way! Come on! What are you waiting for?_

 

“Thank you.” Link said. “For everything.”

 

Seeing this exchange, McBride then said, “It’s settled then. My daughter is capable. I will leave her in charge of the defense of the Abbey for now until we return. We can set out for Booty Bay as soon as you are ready my friend.”

 

“Booty Bay? You can’t be serious. There’s little but pirates and scoundrels in that southern cesspool.” Brother Garen replied.

 

“True, but it is the only port in the Eastern Kingdoms that docks ships bound for the Barrens that will carry humans, unless you believe traveling through dragon infested swamps farther south would lead us to our destination sooner?” McBride responded. “And I know a few of those scoundrels who happen to owe me some favors.”

 

Brother Garen paused and looked down at his feet closing his eyes as though hearing something no one else could. He then nodded and raised his head. “Then I will come with you. Kalimdor is not a safe place for our people. You may need a healer on your quest, and it is time I experienced more of the world outside of this abbey.”

 

Link looked at the man with appreciation. He didn’t know this world at all, or the dangers he might face. But he said, “You don’t have to do that. Neither of you need come with me. I must find her, and...”

 

“And we must help, my son.” Brother Garen responded. “It is what the Light wills.”

 

“Indeed.” McBride agreed. “I will get started on preparations and have horses saddled. We can ride as far as Goldshire and hire gryphons to ride south from there.” He then said to Link, “Have no fear my friend, we will rescue your lady from her cruel fate. I promise you this.”

 

* * *

 

The morning came and went in the common room of the orphanage as a ring of orc and troll children surrounded Zelda sitting crosslegged in front of her, their eyes wide and spellbound as she told them of the one tale she knew all too well. The one which kept repeating throughout her land’s history. Shaggara, Matron Battlewail, and two other orc women sat behind the children, and each with a child in their laps as they listened to Zelda’s legend as well.

 

“And then the princess of wisdom and the hero of courage used the pieces of the ancient golden power...” She continued.

 

“The triforce?” One child asked.

 

“Yes! The triforce!” She giggled as she tickled the child’s clawed toes. The child, a little boy laughed and hid his face shyly as she continued.

 

“They used the pieces of the triforce to seal the evil king from the desert in the sacred realm where he could do no more harm to the land of Hyrule.” She finished.

 

“Did they live happily ever after?” Another little girl asked. “Did they get married?”

 

“Oh!” Zelda laughed, blushing a bit. “Well, the story keeps repeating itself throughout our history at different times and in different ways. Sometimes, yes they do, and others sadly no they don’t.”

 

“Did the story happen recently?” One little boy, a blue skinned troll boy with deep thoughtful eyes asked.

 

Another little girl picked up on the question and chimed in, “Are you the princess of wisdom?”

 

Zelda smiled and then, leaning in like she was sharing a secret she said, “Well, that’s my secret to keep, now isn’t it?”

 

“Aw, no fair! Tell us!” The girl cried foul, and then the other children joined in until Matron Battlewail gently placed the child who had been sitting on her lap to the side and stood up saying, “Now children, let Zelda alone. She has been very gracious to share the legends of her people with us and we should all thank her for it. May her stories become our stories, and her wisdom ours.”

 

“Ohhh...” some of the children whined, but then as they stood up, they all grudgingly said “Thank you, Zelda.”

 

One little girl, an orc girl of maybe six or seven years as Zelda could determine, came up and gave her a hug, whispering as she did so, “I know it was you in the story. I hope you find your hero, Princess Zelda.”

 

Zelda smiled and returned the hug, but said nothing as she released the little girl.

 

Shaggara and Matron Battlewail came to stand next to her. The matron then said, gesturing to the little girl as she did so, “A bright one she is. She has progressed in her studies far beyond the others of her age. I hope to see her trained in more than just how to spill blood.”

 

“I would hope so too.” Zelda replied.

 

“And I share her sentiment,” the matron continued. “I hope you find your hero as well, Princess.”

 

Zelda made to protest, but the matron put up a clawed hand to silence her. “Do not attempt to deny it. Your ‘legend’ sounded more of recent memory than ancient story. Do not mistake us for fools, elf girl. I have lived too long to tolerate such nonsense. I presume you still carry this power of wisdom you spoke of?”

 

Zelda pursed her lips, but then held up the back of her right hand showing the faint golden outline of three triangle joined into one. One of the bottom two glowed faintly but discernibly.

 

“I would be the fool to make such a mistake, Matron. It is only that in my land, the knowledge of these events and this legend is a closely guarded secret, as is the triforce itself. Your people have no such cycle on their land.” Zelda replied. “To the children, it was only a story.”

 

“Yet even the children saw through it.” The Matron replied gesturing again to the children who had gone off to their own play. “I am afraid you must be more careful even here, child. There are those in our world, like your own, that would stop at nothing to gain the power you and your hero carry. The power to alter space, time, and reality itself with nothing but a wish? Oh yes. There are many, many who crave such power here in Azeroth and elsewhere. Imagine the great harm one might do with such power. Our orphanage is already full to bursting. Guard your story here as carefully as you would in your own land. Do you understand?”

 

Zelda nodded gravely, and silently, accepting the rebuke for her lack of discretion.

 

“Good.” The Matron softened. “I agree with my daughter, Shaggara. Someone brought you through to our world for a reason, but I do not think you landed where they intended. And now we know why.” She pointed a brownish green clawed finger towards the mark on the back of Zelda’s hand. “And if they brought you through, then they brought through your hero and this evil king as well.”

 

Shaggara joined in, “Yes, Shaggara believes so as well. To obtain the golden power you all carry, there are mages and warlocks that would sacrifice many, many souls to gain the power to drag you from your world. Your presence in our world could threaten all of us. You must find your hero and go home.”

 

“For both our worlds.” Zelda agreed. “The longer the triforce is absent from Hyrule, the farther out of balance Hyrule will fall.”

 

“Take her to the Crossroads in the Barrens, daughter. Find Gereth as quickly as you can. Perhaps he may be able to help.” The Matron told Shaggara.

 

“I will, Matron. On my honor, I will see Zelda returned to her world or die in the attempt.” Shaggara returned solemnly.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

Not memories per se, but feelings of memories coursed through Link’s mind and body as the wind flew over and around him. Though he had never flown on the back of one of the majestic raptor headed animals before, somehow his muscles instantly knew how to move with the white and gold colored beast as it soared through the air southwards. The feel of deja vu was intense, though whenever he tried to call to mind when he might have done anything similar, there was always a blank.

 

The beast seemed to know it as well. The gryphons he and his two companions flew upon were well trained, and, as the gryphon master explained, they would fly straight south from Goldshire to the town of Darkshire in the province of Duskwood whether there was someone riding them or not. But this gryphon, rather than keeping to its set path responded to the slightest instinctual movement of Link’s either higher or lower, banking or twisting.

 

Link couldn’t suppress the boyish grin which spread over his face at the speed and rush he felt. It was, in some ways, like riding Epona again, his mare which had accompanied him throughout his life. In some way, riding the wind on the back of a great beast like this just felt “right”. And like much of these kinds of feelings and instincts, he couldn’t explain it.

 

Trailing Link’s more free flying animal were Marshall McBride and Brother Garen on their own hired animals as they flew farther and farther south over Elwyn forest. Occasionally, the Hylian warrior would look back to make sure he hadn’t lost the men who had graciously promised to help him find his lost princess and rescue her from the kinds of beasts he had been forced to slaughter the day before.

 

Marshall McBride looked almost bored as he held on to his gryphon, as though this kind of travel was nothing knew to him, letting the gryphon doing all the work. Once or twice, Link though he caught him with his eyes closed. In contrast, Brother Garen looked terrified, and even though his animal flew evenly and smoothly, the poor priest held on to it hunched over with white knuckles on the reins, though the animal was clearly not responding to any movements or jerks the priest made with them. Link wondered how many such passengers the gryphon was used to carrying.

 

They had reached Goldshire, a small town centrally located in the province of Goldshire, on horseback shortly after noon that day. After lunch in the Lion’s Pride Inn, the Marshall had hired the three gryphons from the town’s official gryphon master. It was then that the Marshall explained the somewhat unique system of air travel in his world.

 

“Yes, there are gryphon masters in most Alliance towns and all the major cities. Most of them are on the pay of either Stormwind or Ironforge here in the Eastern Kingdoms, though there are a few independent operations here and there.” McBride told both the Hylian and Brother Garen, who himself had never traveled by gryphon before. “The animals themselves are well trained by their masters to fly to only certain locations and then return home on their own. This way, a man might reach a destination in a single day which might otherwise take him a week through dangerous territory on horseback. They also carry the mail from one destination to another, which is why the Alliance has a hand in their use and upkeep.”

 

An hour after their departure, as the sun began dipping towards the west, Link observed a distinct shift in the landscape they were fast approaching. From his vantage point in the sky he could see a river, and the contrast between the north and south sides of the river was literally like the difference between day and night.

 

The north side of the river was cheerful, green, and summer like, as was all of Elwyn forest that Link had seen. It had reminded him strongly of the Faron woods north of where he had grown up in Ordon. But as they were approaching the south side, across the river it suddenly and starkly turned dark and foreboding. The trees were just as green and thick on the south side, but they were more obscured, even sinister as though a great shadow had fallen upon the land. A sickly fog or mist rose up from the ground.

 

A chill went up Link’s spine as the flight of gryphons soared across the river and over the haunted landscape. _What happened to this place?_ Link wondered. And then he wondered, _How much longer ‘til we cross it to_ _this_ _Darkshire_ _town_ _?_ And then, half an hour later the gryphons began their descent towards and into the eery region. When Link pulled up on the reins thinking it to be a mistake, his own animal, so ready to move with him earlier, wouldn’t respond to his commands but was determined to land there.

 

The sun was beginning to set as well, which didn’t help the feel of the region.

 

The gryphons flew down and over the blue roofs of a seemingly larger town than Goldshire had been, though as Link came closer it did not appear to be nearly as cheerful or full of life. The mists seemed to penetrate and surround every building and structure there as well obscuring the whole town in shadows. Street lamps and building lamps were lit though there was still at least an hour or two’s worth of daylight left, and with good reason. There were people walking the streets and pathways of the town, but they appeared hurried, downcast, and themselves almost lifeless as though all hope had fled from them.

 

Finally, the gryphons swept east towards the crest of a hill just outside of the town where they landed gently and came to a halt among a few others that appeared to be resting, their raptor like heads bent back and nestled behind a wing. Not certain of what to do next, Link remained mounted until McBride and Garen landed behind him. McBride immediate slid off his beast as easily as if it had been a horse, while Brother Garen’s shaky legs struggled to find purchase as he eased himself off the feathered and furred animal. It was then, observing his companions that Link knew to dismount there though he had no peace about remaining in the haunted locale for any length of time.

 

Marshall McBride went straight away to the first person he could see. It was another human, a woman wearing some kind of spectacles or goggles, who looked to be tending the resting gryphons. Link came to stand next to him, though he was less than enthused by what he heard.

 

“I’m sorry.” The woman was telling him. “The soonest I can send out another gryphon flight south may be tomorrow morning.”

 

“Why is that?” The Marshall asked, frustrated, though not unkind. “I thought fresh gryphons were always kept available for travelers.”

 

“And usually they are, but even my animals take ill once in a while, Marshall. And, I’ve already had a group hire my last few healthy ones to head west towards Westfall. They won’t find their way home here until tomorrow morning.” The woman responded, noting the man’s rank by his armor decorations. “The animals you came in on are going to be tired from the flight to Goldshire, and, presuming they were fresh out of Goldshire, while they may be capable of pressing on to the next stop southwards in Stranglethorn, I wouldn’t try it.” She then said, “The Scarlet Raven has warm rooms and comfortable beds in town if you and your friends would be willing to spend a few silvers and be patient.”

 

“We were hoping to be in Booty Bay by tomorrow morning.” The Marshall told her as he looked with an unsavory expression towards the town. By the tone of his voice, Link realized McBride now knew that was unrealistic at best.

 

“I don’t know how else to help you, Marshall.” The gryphon master said.

 

Then McBride’s expression changed, and Link could see that a thought had occurred to him.

 

“Our business is more urgent than that. Do you know if anyone in town might have horses for hire?” McBride asked her.

 

She didn’t say it out loud, but the expression the gryphon master gave the Marshall was clearly understood, _Are you insane?_ What she actually said though didn’t inspire any more hope, “What kind of business could be that urgent? No one travels the roads of Duskwood anymore, not unless they’re fools or mad.”

 

“Why?” Link asked.

 

Then it was as if the gryphon master had first noticed him as she seemed to appraise him like she appraised one of her precious flying mounts. After a few seconds she replied, “Look around you, Sir Elf. The light has abandoned Duskwood just as surely as I heard it abandoned much of your own homelands in the north. Soon, there will be nothing left of us here but the damned ghouls and worgen that have taken our fields and farms; not that Stormwind cares.”

 

This last part she said under her breath followed by what sounded like a few choice words that Link didn’t understand. There was a flash of anger with her words, but then it was gone. Replaced only with a hopeless resignation.

 

Marshall McBride looked as though he would reply to this, but then held his tongue.

 

“The Light abandons no one, my daughter.” Brother Garen spoke up from behind the Marshall, his voice paternal and concerned. “Be at peace.”

 

“I wish that were true, brother priest.” The gryphon master replied, some sadness behind her words.

 

The older man stepped forward in his robes to put his hand on the woman’s shoulder, he then closed his eyes and said a few words. As he did so, the hand on her shoulder glowed with a soft white light. Her eyes began to water, and she took his hand and said, “Thank you, brother. I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard on all of us here for several years now.”

 

“I know my daughter, but the Light abandons no one, and shines brightest among the darkest nights. It is when things become their darkest that the Light is most clearly seen.” Brother Garen told her gently.

 

“Thank you,” she said, sniffing back tears, “for your words of encouragement, brother. It’s been hard without my parents.”

 

It was then that Link realized the gryphon master wasn’t much older than he himself was, and he had seen all of eighteen summers pass in his own world. He recognized in her a young woman who had tried to remain strong for too long, only to see her world get worse, and not better.

 

Under his breath, and imperceptible for all present but Link to be able to hear, McBride muttered angrily, “Damned Horde.”

 

After a minute where no one knew what to say, the gryphon master regained some control over her emotions and said, “The armorsmith in town, Morg, he keeps a few horses out behind the smithy for when he needs to bring his wares in his wagon to the next province, but he hasn’t been able to for over a year now. It’s been too dangerous. You might see if he’d be willing to hire them or sell them to you for gold. It’d be more than he’s seen in a while.”

 

“Thank you, lady. It is most appreciated.” Marshall McBride told her. He then reached into a pouch he carried on a belt under his armor and, pinching his fingers together, he pressed something into the young woman’s hand, closing his own around it so that Link couldn’t see what it was, though he heard the distinctive clink of many pieces of precious metal. The Marshall said as he did so, “For your help… and your parents.”

 

The woman nodded her thanks and pocketed the clinking coins which seemed to weigh down her coin purse much more heavily than it had been before.

 

When they had taken their leave and begun their walk down the hill and into the town, the Marshall opened up and began speaking, though it sounded as if it were to himself just as much as it had been to either Link or the priest.

 

“I remember when this town was called Grand Hamlet. It was a jewel. My wife, may she rest in the Light, daughter and I would vacation here when Lucinda was just a babe in arms really. Those were more peaceful times.” There was an anger, and an emotion in his voice that he had obvious trouble containing.

 

Link didn’t know what to say as he observed their surroundings. “Jewel” would not be the description he would give it.

 

“If it wasn’t for the damned Horde, Stormwind could afford to send troops and supplies to relieve these people.” McBride continued.

 

“I thought there was a treaty.” Link said. “That’s what the mage said.”

 

“Oh, there is.” McBride snorted. “They don’t step into lands we claim, and we don’t step into theirs, but there are plenty of lands here in Azeroth that they claim that were never theirs. The treaties call them ‘contested lands’.” McBride spat the word. “Not far from here to the east is the fortress of Marshtide Watch in what we now call the Swamp of Sorrows, one of those ‘contested lands’. Every day good human, dwarf, and even Draenei men and women fight to reclaim those wetlands that they stole from us. Not to mention those parts of our own, human, ancestral homelands in the Arathi Highlands far to the north of us that they’ve settled into and refuse to relinquish. The great city of Stromgarde is in ruins because of it. And what happened to Lordaeron and Gilneas… We have no one to send here, no one to send anywhere, no ability to help whatsoever, and it kills all of us who know about it every day. And it’s all because of those damned orcs, their damned Horde, and the hell they unleashed on Azeroth the minute they set foot here through their damned portal!”

 

The air of the oncoming night was chill as they continued their walk into town, and people who had been out on their own business seemed to be in twice the hurry to get where they were going as what daylight there was vanished quickly. Soon, the only people they met on the cobblestone roads of the town were leather and chain mail clad members of what Marshall McBride referred to as the town’s “Night Watch.” Those brave souls who stood guard over its remaining citizens during the hours between dusk and dawn.

 

“We used to have a farm, a pumpkin farm, not far from here, my wife and I.” The Marshall began again. “My lands weren’t large, but they had been in my family since before my grandfather’s time. Come harvest time, my wife, the Light give her rest, she used to bake the sweetest pumpkin pies you had ever tasted. We’d bring them to market here in… in...” His voice began to crack with emotion. “Damned orcs.” He finally said after several minutes.

 

Link’s heart ached for the man’s loss. He didn’t need to press him for the details. He understood now only too well.

 

“I think the smithy is this way, near the town hall.” McBride said, steadying his voice again. “The sooner we leave this Light forsaken place the better.”

 

* * *

 

The sun shone hard until the sun went down behind the western mountains, and Zelda wondered until the sun disappeared how any place could be that hot and not be total desert. But the view across the land from the town known only as “The Crossroads” was that of savannah, and yellowing grasslands. In the distance to the east, and much nearer to the south west could be seen rocky hills and low mountains jutting up from the earth like monuments the land erected to its own greatness. It was majestic and breathtaking in its own right.

 

Single horned horse-like creatures which Shaggara had called “zhevras” roamed the savannah plains freely in sight of the town to the east alongside large, flightless birds the orc woman had named “plainstriders.”

 

They had arrived late in the day on the backs of winged, lion like creatures which Shaggara had told her were commonly called “Wind Riders” which members of the Horde used and hired frequently to move quickly across their extensive lands in Kalimdor. Zelda found the experience flying on the back of the great beast exhilarating and even somewhat familiar, though she couldn’t remember ever doing anything like it before.

 

The Crossroads was essentially a small Horde outpost with a watchtower, an inn, and a few shops and tradesmen who made their living from all those passing through to the four corners of the continent of Kalimdor.

 

Several tall totem poles with carved, horned bovine heads atop them could be seen around the town, and, except for the watchtower, and the inn which served as its base and were made of earth, stone, and wood frames which were clearly of Orc design, the rest of the structures had been erected from wooden poles and thick animal hides. A kind of windmill made from wood frames and animal hides turned over a well with the breezes which swept through the town. It felt temporary and tribal, like the entire town could pack up at a moment’s notice and relocate. It felt deeply connected to the earth and the natural forces around them.

 

Besides those orcs that oversaw the administration and policed it, several of the blue skinned trolls, and those smaller, green skinned people called Goblins, Zelda found that at least half of the town’s inhabitants were from a tall, muscular, and proud race of bovine peoples which Shaggara called “Tauren.” Those Tauren Zelda encountered seemed stern but kind. When she looked into their eyes she saw a wisdom and a peace in them that she had rarely encountered from any other singular race before.

 

When they landed, they set out immediately to locate the only mage Shaggara seemed to trust, a man named Gereth. Shaggara inquired from many different people, but no one seemed to know of him. As the darkness of night set in and the stars began to shine their brightest Shaggara ran out of townsfolk to inquire from. It was then they joined the other folk passing through in the traveler’s inn for the night.

 

The “inn” was a single large domed room at the base of the tower. A low round table with a cooking fire and a hot plate stood in the center. Towards the back were carefully stacked wooden barrels with spigots. In front of them stood a not so fearsome looking orc man who was carefully filling mugs from the spigots with a dark brown liquor and handing them to some goblin patrons across a couple of low round tables which had been pushed close together to form a rough bar. Around the large room stood braziers with burning coals which provided most of the lighting, and several low to the ground wooden beds with stuffed feather mattresses carefully covered with clean white linen sheets and brown woolen blankets. That night, there were only a few fellow travelers that chose to stay there.

 

Sweeping the wooden floor with a well used straw broom was a large white Tauren male with keen, friendly eyes, a brass nose ring, and a ragged gray beard under his muzzle. He wore a green leather tunic, and gray leather pants with matching gloves and boots. His horns were long, pronounced, and sharp, and he hummed a sprightly melody as he worked. Noticing the two newcomers enter the inn, he called out to them.

 

“So, did you find out anything more about your mage friend?” He asked, his voice deep and rich.

 

“No, no one seems to know anything about him.” Shaggara said as she and Zelda approached the Tauren.

 

He stopped his sweeping for the moment and turned to face them. “It’s not surprising. We get so many new faces passing through from all directions and to all directions, even I can’t keep track of everyone and I usually remember most of the folks that pass through, even if not their names. He must not have been here too long, but that describes almost everyone.” Scratching his chin for a minute, he then asked, “Where was your friend from?”

 

“Brill, in Tirisfal Glades.” Shaggara told him.

 

“Ahhh…. That explains a little more. The Forsaken tend to keep to themselves and their own, and quite frankly there are few that would try to draw them out if they had no business with them. I doubt your friend even troubled anyone in town with his name even if he had passed through.” The Tauren explained.

 

“Are there any other cities or towns west of here that a mage might have been interested in enough to travel to?” Zelda asked.

 

The big Tauren answered as he continued his sweeping, “Well, there’s my home town of Thunderbluff out west and south of here in Mulgore, but that’s more of a draw for those interested in elemental or nature magic not the Arcane, or so I hear. Otherwise, far to the south there’s the goblin town of Gadgetzan, but unless he’s just passing through to somewhere else I don’t know why a mage would want to go there. Same with Winterspring in the north.” He then asked her, “First time in Kalimdor?”

 

“Yes.” Zelda answered honestly.

 

“Well, we’re a little rough around the edges; some of us more than others, but you’ll find most of us here in the western lands to be good, honest people. My name’s Boorand. Boorand Plainswind. I run this little hostel of ours here in town. What’s yours?”

 

“Zelda.” She answered.

 

“That’s an unusual name for one of the Sindorei.” He responded, stopping his sweeping. He stood his broom straight up and put both of his hands over the tip.

 

“So I’ve been told.” She responded, growing a little wary at his interest in her.

 

Seeing her discomfort, he backed off his line of questioning. He’d run his business long enough to know when a guest wanted to keep their business their own. Then, he closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to remember something as his forehead seemed to scrunch and his eyelids tightened.

 

When he opened them, he said, “You know, now that I think about it, I did have a Forsaken man come through, oh about a week back or so. I never caught his name, but I do think I saw him talking to Larhka over there before he left.”

 

The Tauren motioned to the orc serving drinks to the three goblins who seemed to be trying to drink each other under the makeshift bar. The orc said nothing, but took their silver with each drink he handed them.

 

“You might want to ask him. I only bring it up because it’s kind of unusual to see one of the Forsaken at the bar there at all. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of them ever eat or drink anything come to think of it; at least nothing we can serve here.” Boorand told them.

 

“Thank you, Boorand.” Zelda told him.

 

“No problem.” The Tauren innkeeper replied. “Let me know if I can help you ladies any more than that. Oh, and take any bed you can find. We don’t have too many folks tonight, so there should be plenty to go around.” He then said with some pride, “I run a clean establishment for my guests. If you find anything dirty or not right somehow, let me know and I’ll take care of it for you.”

 

He then pointed a thumb at the three small green patrons that were clearly unable to stand up on there own any longer. “One of these goblin fellows drinks too much and starts getting too friendly, let me know and he’s gone. I won’t have any of that in my place. Breakfast is eggs and pork ribs from Durotar at sunup. Don’t ask me where I get the eggs from, just believe me when I say you’ve never tasted omelets like these before. I might even have some Blackrock coffee if you’d like some brewed in the morning. I don’t usually drink it, but I keep some on hand in case I have guests who’re interested.”

 

“Coffee in the morning would be lovely, thank you, Boorand.” Zelda replied graciously.

 

“Thank you again for your kindness.” Shaggara told him as well.

 

Boorand smiled and nodded and went back to his work, continuing to hum the same melody as before. The two women then approached the “barkeep” towards the back of the common room.

 

By the time they had reached the “bar”, none of the three goblins were still on their feet, and only one appeared conscious enough to even put his mug in front of Larhka for him to fill it, which the orc did once more silver coins had been laid on the table.

 

Taking his mug again, the goblin gave a valiant effort to bring it to his lips, but just as Zelda thought he might actually achieve his goal, the poor creature went over backwards, spilling the grainy smelling liquor all over himself. The goblin himself didn’t care as he was passed out cold. Off across the room, the innkeeper snorted in disgust, but strangely he made no effort to clean it up or remove the creatures from his inn.

 

“Shouldn’t you have cut them off long before this?” Zelda asked the barkeep.

 

Larhka looked at her with a wily grin and replied, “Better three drunk goblins sleeping it off all night, than three sober goblins causing trouble all night. Goblins are tougher than they look, they’ll be fine. And now, so will everyone else.”

 

Zelda smirked at his answer, appreciating the sly but practical cunning of the orc.

 

Shaggara spoke next, “The innkeeper tells us you spoke with a Forsaken man who passed through here a week ago. Do you know where he might have gone next?”

 

Larhka eyed Shaggara and Zelda pensively, as though appraising who was asking. His caution wasn’t lost on Zelda. _He definitely knows something_ , she thought. _But he doesn’t know if we’re the right people to reveal it to._

 

“He’s a friend of ours,” Zelda than said as sincerely as she could. “His name is Gereth.”

 

“He never told me his name.” Larhka finally said. “But yes, I remember him. Not too often one of them comes up to buy a drink from me. Said he just wanted to remember what it tasted like. Something about a tavern in Lordaeron a long time ago.”

 

“That was him.” Shaggara confirmed. “He told me about the tavern in his home town before the plague many times.”

 

“Yeah, what was the name of that town again?” Larhka asked, keeping his eyes on Shaggara, watching her for her answer warily.

 

“Andorhal. Gereth was from Andorhal before the Scourge overran it.” Shaggara replied without hesitating.

 

Larhka nodded, “You’re right, it was Andorhal.” Eying Shaggara and Zelda again he said in his deep, raspy orc voice. “Yeah, he talked to me about that and a few other things. I don’t usually pry, but people tend to talk a lot when they drink. When they do, I try to keep what they say between them and me. You know what I mean? Though, to be honest I didn’t expect one of them to open up like that. I didn’t know the drink could have that effect on one of them. Maybe he just felt like talking. Either way...”

 

Zelda listened to everything the two orcs were saying about the man they were looking for, but not everything was making sense to her. What was the Scourge? Why did they keep referring to this man as “forsaken” and “one of them”? There was a noticeable but slight shudder in the orc’s disposition when he mentioned him as well.

 

“Either way, seeing as you’re a friend of his, he talked a lot about his life before the Scourge.” Larhka continued as he poured another mug of the liquor, then took a swig of it himself. “There was the usual anger and bitterness you see in one of them when they talk about their lives before, but there was something else too. He said he was traveling up into the elven lands to the northwest, to the old Kaldorei ruins up in Ashenvale. He said he was researching something that might be able to fix everything, something he had heard about from one of his friends in the Kirin Tor in Dalaran. He thought there might be… Oh, how did he put it, ‘the last piece of the puzzle’ to figuring out how to make or conjure one of these things; something he called a ‘golden flame’.”

 

“A golden flame?” Zelda asked, her intuition beginning to stir.

 

“Yeah, he mentioned something about a fire elemental called ‘Blazerunner’ way out in Un’goro Crater years ago that he had read about in some journal. Some adventurer went out and killed it and took this ‘golden flame’ from the monster trying to finish a job another had started. Last anyone heard, he said, it had been returned to one of the ruined elven cities in Ashenvale.”

 

“You remember a lot.” Shaggara observed.

 

“Like I said, it isn’t often one of them comes and talks to me. And it was a good story he told. I’m not great at it, but sometimes I try my hand at storytelling to entertain the guests, especially when we’ve got little ones. It’s not often but it does happen. I’m always on the lookout for new stuff.” Larhka told her in reply.

 

Shaggara nodded in understanding. “Did he say anything else?”

 

“Just something about a ‘sword of mastery’ or something somehow being connected to the whole thing, like some kind of key.” He replied.

 

Zelda stiffened, though she tried to not let it show. “Like a master sword?” She asked innocently.

 

“Yeah. You know, I think that’s what he called it too. He said, ‘the master sword’s the key to it’. Those were his exact words. You know what he was talking about? Cause I’d like to know just to make it a better story when I tell it.” The barkeep said, looking back and forth between the two women.

 

But Zelda didn’t reply as her mind raced. Shaggara too, looked pensive as she remembered Zelda’s own story from earlier in the day in Orgrimmar. Finally, Shaggara said, “Perhaps. Thank you, Larhka. You’ve helped us greatly.”

 

“Yeah, no problem. I kind of hope he finds what he was looking for. He seemed like a decent fellow… for one of them I mean. Shame what the Scourge did to him and his people.” The male orc replied.

 

The triangle emblem burned with a golden light on the back of Zelda’s hand and she moved to cover it so that the barkeep didn’t see. As it did so, her mind was filled with familiar, yet unknown images of a people and a history she had never encountered before. And a certain golden triangle, wreathed in golden flames stood at the center of them all.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

The night was dark, darker than anything Link could remember as he, Marshall McBride, and Brother Garen trotted their horses west along the main road which ran through the whole of the province of Duskwood. Even the oil lamps, hung on short wooden posts every so often to help light the road for those adventuresome travelers who dared it, did little to alleviate the darkness except to point out where the road may be in the distance.

 

There was also a damp chill in the air as the mist worked its way through cloaks, tunics, and breaches to reach skin and bone. It left Link shivering regardless of the fur lined, wolf’s hide cloak he had acquired from the armorsmith.

 

The eery feel to the land was everywhere his head turned as they rode, and it prompted them to push their newly purchased horses even faster. Several times Link would swear he had seen pairs of glowing red eyes watching him from off the road behind a bush, or up on a hill.

 

“We need to keep moving,” was all Marshall McBride would say when the Hylian would mention it.

 

The plan had been to try and reach a small, but semi-permanent encampment of soldiers of which he had been informed that were on the northern edge of the Jungle region known as Stranglethorn Vale. The region lay directly south of Duskwood, and there was a road the Marshall knew of in the cursed land which led there. They had hoped to reach the encampment before dawn, and then hire gryphons to continue down to Booty Bay from there.

 

But as the night wore on, and Link watched Brother Garen slump over in his saddle more than once before being shaken awake again, it became clear to him that they were going to need to stop and make camp somewhere. He also knew that even the hardiest horses couldn’t keep up their pace all night without rest.

 

“Marshall, we need to stop and make camp.” Link pulled up next to the man and told him.

 

“Not here. Not in Duskwood.” The Marshall replied, his own expression haunted. “It’s not safe.”

 

“Brother Garen is falling asleep in his saddle, and you know as well as I that no horse can keep up this pace for hours without end. Even if we can make it without rest, they will collapse before we ever make it out of this province.” Link pointed out. “There has to be somewhere here where we can rest the horses for a few hours.”

 

“You don’t understand what roams these woods, elf. Better to sacrifice the horses than ourselves.” The Marshall responded stubbornly.

 

They continued to ride for some time, and then, just off the road to their left, Link spied what looked like an old farmhouse. Its dried out wooden boards ragged appearance told Link that whoever had built it had been gone for a long time. No lights were seen coming from the glass set windows.

 

“What about that old farmhouse over there just off the road?” Link pointed for the soldier. “It looks abandoned, and it looks large enough to pull the horses inside to protect them if we need to.”

 

McBride looked in the direction that the Hylian pointed, but could barely make out the outline of the building. “You’ve got good eyes, elf, if you can see all that in this darkness.” He remarked.

 

“It’s better than wasting good horses.” Link replied.

 

Though the truth was, “good horses” was a stretch in describing the broken down black geldings the blacksmith had sold them. True, they could still carry a man, and travel a distance, and they didn’t have any broken legs but that was all that was going for them. Link missed his mare, Epona. She had been a good companion and a good friend to him. Epona might have made it all the way through if the need was that great. She had never let him down before.

 

“Fine.” The Marshall conceded, and the three directed their animals off the road and down an overgrown path towards the abandoned farmhouse.

 

The closer they got, the more Link could see that at one time it had been part of a large and well kept estate. It was a two story structure. Blue painted shingles still graced the roof, though many had fallen away in patches. Weather beaten white paint peeled from the sides of the building. Glass windows could be seen on both levels, though a few had been broken and never repaired. The front of the house held grand, double doors that had also, at one time, been painted a royal blue. These now stood partially and haphazardly open.

 

As they pulled up to the front steps of the house, Marshall McBride dismounted saying, “The doors look large enough, and the wood still looks sturdy. Let’s bring the horses in. I’ll take first watch. We leave before dawn.”

 

Inside the house there was a large common room, and it was apparent that the house had, once upon a time entertained many guests. But now it was silent, much of the rich furniture that had once graced the old farmhouse lay in disrepair and covered in dust and streaks of the mold which seemed to be everywhere. Still, there were a few pieces that seemed to have survived the ravages of time and the mist and these were put into use by the three men. They brought the horses into the grand common room through the front doors, tying them to a still sturdy staircase railing, and then pulled the doors shut. They would not secure though, as the latches had rusted away long ago. As McBride lit a lantern and searched the room, he spied an old piano against a wall. He and Link then pushed it against the doors to secure them against the as yet unseen things outside as best they could.

 

As promised, Marshall McBride took the first watch while Brother Garen stretched out on a long padded couch. Link found a chair which still held some of it’s padding and attempted to close his eyes, having agreed to take the second watch after the human soldier.

 

But try as he might, sleep would not come. It was ironic because of how many times, justifiably, those closest to him, few though they might be, accused him of being lazy or sleeping when he should have been paying attention. But that night, no matter how late it might have gotten, sleep would not come to him.

 

The unnatural silence of the farmhouse and the surrounding area deafened his elvish ears. Link had grown up in the woods and near the woods. He knew what the sounds of the forest and farmland should be. Yet he heard none of them. It was as though he were in a tomb, and he knew the feel of tombs all too well.

 

It had only been the year before when the “Hero” had awoken within him. Before that, he had just been an orphan goat herd in a small, unknown village in the province of Ordon south of the Faron Woods. Although not technically a part of the kingdom of Hyrule, Ordon held some minor trade with Lanayru and Eldin provinces and its surrounding farms and villages. Link’s village held one of the best blacksmiths in the province, a man named Rusl who had been like a father to him. That was before the demon king had broken free of his bonds, and Links world had been turned upside down. He had been thrown against horror after horror in order to rescue the crown princess of Hyrule and seal that same demon king back into his prison in what had once been the sacred realm once again. Great monstrous spiders, their fangs dripping with deadly, acidic poison; faceless death knights wielding impossible large hammers and ball-chain maces; fearsome fire breathing dragons that wanted nothing more than to make him their next meal; he had faced all of them. The golden power which he discovered he carried within his very soul drove him and pushed him to ever greater acts of heroism and courage; some of them so unbelievable, he had neglected to relate to anyone for fear of them calling him a liar.

 

And he had suffered a deep personal loss in the form of the companion, his best friend since he could remember, who had traveled with him and had sacrificed herself in order to save him and seal the Demon King, Ganondorf, away. When he did sleep at night, it was her sad, but smiling face that he saw, right as she died. This is what woke him in the middle of the night, screaming her name, his sheets soaked with sweat in the Hero’s chamber in the Castle.

 

It was also the reason why he seemed to be so lazy during the day. He just couldn’t sleep at night.

 

The only one who knew about Ilia’s act of selfless bravery had been Zelda, and this because the Princess had been there when it happened. Link himself couldn’t bring himself to talk about it, and she never brought it up with him or anyone else.

 

Zelda had, as much as her own duties had allowed her, stepped into Ilia’s place in his life. He didn’t know why, but he felt a connection to the princess that he didn’t understand, and she seemed unusually comfortable around him as well, as though they had known each other all their lives. She became his best friend even as he became her “bodyguard”, though she seemed to be “grooming” him for more than that.

 

In the distance, a wolf howled into the night, though it was like no wolf Link had ever heard before. The cry was more sorrowful, more savage, and more blood curdling than he would’ve thought possible.

 

Link’s eyes flew open at the sound and looked towards where Marshall McBride had been standing near the window. The lamp which they had lit had been doused. McBride must have heard the Hylian warrior stir, because he held the index finger of his right hand up to his lips, indicating that he wanted Link to remain silent. The soldier’s other hand held his own sword, the blade kept low lest it catch any light and reflect it back out the window.

 

Link’s own left hand slowly went to the sword on his own back, carefully drawing it so as not to make a sound. He then slowly got up from his chair and held his position, all of his senses now alert and probing.

 

On the couch, Brother Garen was still asleep, oblivious to anything that might be amiss. Link decided he was better that way at the moment. Sincere though the man might be, he was no warrior.

 

His sharp ears caught the sound of footpads striking dirt and fallen leaves outside, though he could not tell if it was on two legs or four. Then he heard the animal like growling coming from outside. There was one, no two… no, that was a third creature.

 

Link held up three fingers to McBride, but he couldn’t see them in the darkness. Then he carefully and lightly tapped on the wooden arm of the chair three times, hoping the man understood. Still watching the window, McBride nodded in response and held up three fingers as well for the Hylian to see.

 

Then the movement outside stopped dead, and there was nothing for several seconds except the sound of something large, perhaps as large as a man, sniffing at the air.

 

Link hadn’t been conscious of it at first, but he realized after a minute that he hadn’t been breathing as his heart began to race. Then…

 

CRASH!!!

 

Glass shattered everywhere as a huge hulking form with flashing red eyes smashed through the front window, landing on all fours just past Marshall McBride. The horses screamed and winnied in panic, causing more confusion and disorientation.

 

It lunged for the Hylian warrior, but found itself smashing into an empty chair and landing clumsily on the floor. Outside lightning flashed from nowhere and it began to rain hard. Between the flashes of light, Link caught the glimpse of sharp canine teeth and scarred, furred elongated lupine nose as the creature turned towards him and lunged again.

 

He slammed the beast back hard with his shield. The creature’s sharp teeth and muzzle smashing violently against the shield. Link brought his sword up from behind him to slice towards the wolf like creature’s midsection.

 

Then the animal darted out of the way, rearing back on two, man-like legs. And with the next flash of lightning, he saw that the creature’s front claws were attached to the five fingers of very mannish hands.

 

“Worgen!” McBride yelled as another creature dove through the broken window after the first, only this time, McBride stood ready with his sword as he stabbed upwards towards the monster’s belly, slicing its underside from neck to manhood. The creature fell, it’s innards slick on the decrepit old wooden floor.

 

“What?!” Link yelled back.

 

“Man-worgs!” McBride responded as the third came through, taking advantage of the Marshall’s distraction.

 

“What’s a worg?!” Link shot back as his sword-arm was given a full workout. He had never seen a monster so quick in its reflexes.

 

Then the creature swiped with it’s claws and caught Link on his shield arm just in between the protection of his chain mail and leather gauntleted forearm. Blood began to seep from the wound, and Link realized it was more than just a lucky strike. This monster was calculating as it pressed its attack hard.

 

Link couldn’t worry about the third worgen, all of his battle reflexes were now focused on just this one. The mark on his left hand began to glow brightly and the _Courage_ began to take him. Once more time seemed to slow down and he began to be able to see the worgen’s attacks before they happened, but only just.

 

Link ignored the pain in his arm, though it burned in a way he hadn’t experience before. He bashed the animal creature hard again in the head, dizzying it for just a split second, but that was all he needed as his sword came around in a backhand and slit the worgen’s throat so hard that it nearly decapitated the beast.

 

The dead body fell at Link’s feet, spilling it’s own life blood across the floorboards. But Link had no time to inspect the body as Marshall McBride had a worgen of his own to deal with, and he found the man nearly pinned down by the beast. The only thing which saved his life, Link knew, was the solid plate armor his whole body seemed to be encased in that the worgen’s fangs and claws just couldn’t seem to penetrate.

 

But just as he turned to challenge the next beast, his head began to swoon, and his vision began to blur, and the burning sensation in his arm became worse and worse. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the form a of a huge bird of prey swooping in through the window, talons outstretched towards the worgen. The cry of a raptor filled the house, and then strangely turned into the snarling, raging roar of a great bear.

 

The horses screamed again. And then all was dark.

 

* * *

 

“The infection’s progressed too rapidly,” a voice, a male voice Link didn’t recognize, was saying nearby. “The claws probably had saliva on them, if I were to guess. None of my potions will stop it now.”

 

“Are you saying the creature meant to do this to him?” The kindly, concerned voice of Bother Garen spoke up.

 

“I can’t say about the wild ones, though they’re certainly just as intelligent as you or I, brother priest.” The male voice said again in an almost academic, though kindly tone. “You are both extremely lucky that you yourselves weren’t infected. You in particular, Marshall. It is a difficult burden for anyone to bear.”

 

Link heard metal beat against metal, and the Marshall’s voice saying, “Imperial Plate forged from thorium from the second war. It was a gift from my father. This isn’t the first time it has saved me.”

 

As Link’s sense returned to him, he found himself lying on a comfortable mattress in a well lit room. Too lit, in fact for it to still be at night. He opened his eyes and found dim sunlight filtering through a window opened to allow fresh air to flow through the room. His tunic, chain-mail, undershirt, and gauntlets had all been removed and a well thought bandage with a sweet smelling herbal poultice had been wrapped around his injured arm.

 

“Where am I?” Link asked, his senses returning to him quickly and sharply. Upon seeing the newcomer, a dark haired man with sharp, handsome aquiline features and a long flowing mustache wearing a red and brown leather kilt and jacket, he then asked, “Who are you?”

 

The three other men in the room turned towards him as he tried pushing himself up.

 

“Good, you’re awake.” The new man told him. “I was beginning to wonder how long it would be.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Link said as he looked back and forth between his two previous companions. “Where am I? What happened to the farmhouse? How did we get here?” He felt disoriented.

 

The looks on McBride’s and Brother Garen’s faces were apologetic, concerned, and even sad as though there were some terrible news that they didn’t want to tell him, but couldn’t avoid. Only the newcomer seemed less apologetic and more concerned with Link’s current care.

 

“Are you a healer?” Link asked him.

 

The dark haired man came closer to stand at the side of Link’s bed. He then pulled a wooden chair from a nearby desk in the room they were in and sat down next to him, placing his arms on his legs.

 

“I have some skill in healing if that’s what you mean.” The man answered. “As to my name, I am called Oliver, Oliver Harris, and this is the Scarlet Raven Inn in Darkshire. Your companions and I brought you here last night after the worgen attack. Do you remember anything about it?”

 

Link thought back to the fight, though his memory of it was crude and a bit fuzzy. He remembered the creature’s lupine features in the flashing lightning, the fangs and claws slashing and biting at him with abandon, and then a quick strike, a lucky hit on his arm.

 

“My arm was cut by the creature’s claws, and then… I blacked out.”

 

“Yes. So your friends told me. I’m afraid your injury was… infected by the worgen. Sometimes they lick their claws before an attack in an attempt to increase their numbers.” The man explained, his manner professional and somewhat clinical. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to stop down the infection now. It took too long to bring you back to town and retrieve my supplies from Raven Hill to begin brewing an antidote. By the time I returned it had spread too far.”

 

“What infection?” Link asked, not understanding what the man was saying. “Am I going to die?”

 

Oliver Harris looked at the other men in the room with a curious look on his face, and then back to Link. “Do you not understand what happens when a worgen bites you, but does not kill you?”

 

Link’s mind raced, but came up empty. “No.” He answered, a sense of foreboding building.

 

“Perhaps then I need to show you what you must expect to happen to you within the next few days. Please do not be alarmed, I am perfectly in control of myself the entire time, and I can teach you to be the same.” Oliver told him.

 

“I don’t understand.” Link said.

 

Oliver got up from where he sat in his chair and backed away from the bed a little, giving himself ample space for whatever demonstration he was going to give.

 

“Please, remain calm.” He said one last time.

 

Then, the man’s face began to contort and change in excruciatingly painful ways. His whole body seemed to shift and grow larger. Dark fur began to sproud all over his face, neck, and hands; and his hands grew more monstrous and less human, the fingernails shifting into sharp claws. His jaws and nose elongated out to a muzzle, and his ears grew longer and sharper into something decidedly more wolf like. His back arched as the radical changes took place and he seemed to writhe in a pain he refused to give into.

 

When the transformation was finished, Link looked with some horror as the man seemed to have gone, and what remained now wearing his clothes was the same beast which had attacked Link.

 

Oliver Harris was a worgen.

 

“I’m sorry, my friend. This is your fate as well. You will make your first transformation in a matter of days from now, if that.” Came a raspier version of the healer’s voice from the face of the monster, his hands gesturing kindly as he spoke. “But I can help you learn to use it in your travels, and other forms, if you will let me.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

They had left the following day, early in the morning just after sun up. Marshall McBride and Brother Garen had been told to stay where they were in their rooms in the Scarlet Raven, much to the military man’s dislike. He swore several times with a string of foreign profanities that Link had never heard of. But the mysterious worgen man, whom Link learned was Gilnean by birth, would not relent.

 

“He and I must do this alone. Where we are going, you cannot follow. We will not be gone long, three days at most, and our destination is here within Duskwood. This is all I can tell you.” Oliver had said solemnly to the two men. “But we must do this before his transformation is complete.”

 

“I will not stay one more night in this town. I can’t.” McBride told the man, a pleading look in his eyes. “And I swore to see him through this.”

 

“Then take your priest friend and meet us in Stormwind three days from now. There is an inn there called the Gilded Rose. I know the innkeeper Allison well. She is a friend of the Cenarion Circle. She can be trusted.” Oliver told him.

 

“I swore to see this man find his companion in Kalimdor. That is why we were traveling south, as I told you.” McBride stubbornly persisted.

 

“Then you must let me take him and equip him for what lies ahead.” Oliver smoothly returned.

 

As the two men, Oliver had resumed his more “human” appearance, reached a small, almost imperceptible path which led north off the road, Link thought back to the exchange which had occurred earlier that morning. The truth was the enigmatic worgen healer had been silent during their three hour ride west down the rode. He hadn’t told Link anything about where they were going, or what was to happen when they arrived.

 

For his part, Link felt stronger since the day before. The truth was, he felt stronger, sharper, and faster than he ever had in his life. His senses, already keener than his human companions or those friends back in Ordon, became even more heightened. His sense of smell had exploded a hundred fold over the last day as he could smell scent trails of various animals, four footed and otherwise, for miles around. He was surprised when he realized he could tell the difference between the two human men he had been traveling with and Oliver by scent alone.

 

Up ahead, he could tell the scent was changing from the rest of the woods as the path led up into rocky hills. The air was fresher, sweeter, and filled with the scent of living, growing trees, and grass, and animals instead of the continuous decay and mold which pervaded the entire region around him. The scent of death and deterioration filled his nostrils from Darkshire up until this point, but not in whatever lay ahead of him.

 

“You smell it, don’t you, Link?” Oliver asked as they rode the horses up the overgrown path. It was the first time since they left that he attempted to make conversation.

 

Link nodded, but said nothing.

 

“It is the same scent I caught when I first encountered you back in that abandoned farmhouse. It is the scent of the wild forest, of nature in harmony and balance. I have never encountered that scent from one of your kind before, and when I did, I knew that I needed to bring you here. I needed to bring you to her somehow.” Oliver told him.

 

“I don’t understand.” Link replied. He realized he had been saying that a lot lately, and it was beginning to grate on him. There was so much he needed to understand about this world and he didn’t have the time, it seemed.

 

“No, I expect you don’t.” The worgen man replied. “A long time ago, a great gift was given to the Kaldorei, those we humans call the ‘night elves’ by the Great Green Dragon Ysera who guards the realm of the Emerald Dream. Many of them were given the power of nature, to work in harmony with it and learn its secrets in order to help maintain the balance of life and keep order in this world. These were the first of my order, the first Druids. Much, much later, many thousands of years in fact, the Kaldorei chose to entrust this gift and teach it to other races as well. At some time in the ancient past, they also chose to share it with only one human kingdom, the kingdom of Gilneas. Regardless of our political differences, regardless of whether we are Horde or Alliance we all share the same goal of keeping this world in balance. The pact we make with Ysera for this gift is that we must spend time asleep, immersed in the Emerald Dream that is our world the way it should have been; natural, raw, and unspoiled by our so-called ‘intelligent’ life.”

 

“And what does that have to do with me?” Link asked.

 

“You have the smell of a child of the green dragon, as though you were born of Ysera herself.” Oliver replied. “I know of many of my people who have learned to live with, and even somewhat control, the beast that rages inside of us, but none so well as those who have been blessed with Ysera’s gift. I do not see the future, much less your future, but I feel as though your destiny is intertwined as much with the future of our world as it is your own. I would have you stand before Ysera and let her make her own judgments, and if she wills, I would teach you the way of the Druid, as much as I know. Regrettably, it isn’t as much as you might learn in the great Kaldorei city of Darnassus, or the sacred Druid sanctuary of Moonglade in Kalimdor, but if she permits, all I can I offer to you.”

 

“Who is this Ysera? Is she a goddess?” Link asked, thinking back to the three goddesses who created and shaped his own world, and one in particular.

 

“She is one of the great dragons charged with protecting this world by the ancient gods who shaped it.” Oliver replied, his tone of voice reverent even as he said it.

 

“And she dwells up ahead?” Link asked.

 

“Not exactly, but you will see what I mean shortly.” He replied again.

 

The path wound higher up through a narrow crevice in the rock that the horses would barely fit through and the two had to dismount and lead their broken down geldings through on foot. The sun had somehow risen high in the sky by the time the whole scene in front of Link began to change, and the scent of the forest became stronger and stronger. Soon, they came to an ornate archway carved in a style that Link hadn’t yet encountered in this land, and once they passed through it was as though the curse upon the land of Duskwood had been halted and thrown back on itself.

 

As the path began to lead downwards once again, Link’s eyes, ears and nose were treated to the sights and sounds of nature come alive as the path lead into a bowl shaped grove of trees, and grass, and just “life” and living things all around. It seemed to glow with a life and a peace all its own.

 

“What is this place?” Link asked. It felt so familiar, like coming home to the house he had grown up in.

 

“It is one of the groves in this world sacred to my order.” Oliver replied. “We call this one, the Twilight Grove, and it is one of the few places in Azeroth where one might find a portal connecting this world with the Emerald Dream, Ysera’s realm.”

 

At the far end of the grove Link could see the only artificial structure which seemed to be standing. It looked made of stone, or otherwise some other kind of material for which he had no name. It was a great ring standing upright on a pedestal with a stone ramp leading up to it. Tendrils of the great tree which stood behind it wrapped themselves around the ring but did not cover it completely. Across the face of the ring were carved strange glowing symbols that meant nothing to the Hylian, though they seemed familiar in some way. The center of the ring seemed a “puddle” of greenish energy whose surface continuously moved back and forth.

 

Upon their entry deeper into the grove, and the closer they came to the ring, a shadow seemed to pass over Link as though it were appraising him. The Hylian felt… something probing him, his mind and heart way down into his very soul until…

 

The triangular mark on the back of his left hand lit up and shone through the leather gauntlet. Perhaps it was intuition, or instinct, but Link brought his hand up into a fist, displaying the back of his hand and the mark of the _Courage_ he carried to the unseen presence. The shadow paused as though considering this, and then it disappeared, apparently satisfied.

 

“What was that?” Link asked.

 

“The memory of the guardian of the grove.” Oliver answered cryptically, though his voice betrayed no surprise at the outcome of the guardian’s apparent challenge. “Only those it finds worthy may pass.”

 

Another memory flashed through Link’s mind, one of another guardian in another sacred grove far away in the Faron Woods. That guardian had not nearly been so easy to appease.

 

As Link and Oliver came to stand at the base of the stone ramp which led up to the ring, the Hylian observed the scene in front of him and something seemed off. It felt like something was missing.

 

“I feel as though I’ve been here before.” Link told him. “But it feels as though something is missing.”

 

Oliver took note of it, but said nothing.

 

“So, now what do I do?” Link asked.

 

“Ysera awaits.” Oliver said, and then bowed his head, gesturing for Link to ascend the ramp.

 

Link looked at the Gilnean, and then nodded his understanding. This was something the Druid could not do for him. And then he fixed his eyes on the green energy of the ring and ascended the ramp. When he reached the platform at the top, he approached the swirling puddle and stopped inches from it, surveying it.

 

Then, he took his left hand and raised his fingertips towards the energy and touched it. It felt warm, like a bright summer’s day. It felt alive as it danced playfully under his fingertips. But more than this, it felt familiar, maternal even, and welcoming.

 

He stepped into the energy, immersing his whole body in it.

 

Immediately, he felt the currents take him and he felt transported though somehow he knew his body remained where it stood.

 

He felt warm and secure. All around him was the scent and smell of the wild forest. In his being he heard or felt… a beating. Calm, relaxed, and soothing. It was a great heart beat, though it was not his own. And somehow, a memory awakened within him of another heart with whose his own had beaten as one long, long ago.

 

“Mother?” He asked timidly, not knowing really how or why, but somehow the truth of it surrounded him.

 

A warm glow infused him with a mother’s love in response. In his heart he felt more than heard a voice, caring and sweet, “My child...”

 

“How…?” He asked.

 

“I am known by many names, among many worlds,” came the response, “and I am glad you have returned to me.”

 

“Ysera?” Link asked.

 

“Here... for now… among these people.” The maternal presence seemed amused. “My incarnation in this world sleeps and dreams, battling against the nightmare that threatens this world’s most sacred of realms… my sacred realm.”

 

Feelings and emotions rose within the Hylian that he couldn’t explain. Feelings of sadness and joy, hope and betrayal all at the same time even as the warm energy around him sought to comfort him as only a mother might.

 

“My chosen hero...” The presence continued. “This world has been thrown out of balance by reckless men who craved power above all else, and even now a great demon lord seeks to enter it and see all that has grown and lived and thrived here burn under the fires of his legions. This cannot be allowed to happen.”

 

It was something he understood all too well.

 

“What would you have me do?” He asked.

 

“Receive the blessing of my power, my son.” She said as a surge of new energy rushed through his being and suddenly flashes of running free through the forest undergrowth, soaring high over the treetops, and stalking prey deep in the undergrowth all flooded his very soul and overwhelmed him.

 

“Be my chosen hero in this land as well as in your own. Find your princess of wisdom once more, and use the golden flame to drive back the darkness and heal this world.” The presence grew passionate in her appeal.

 

Link then remembered his “infection”. “Oliver, the Druid who brought me to you, said that I will transform into a monster soon, a worgen like him.”

 

A soothing feeling flowed through him. “The strength of the bear, the speed and stealth of the cat, the wings of the raptor, and yes the nobility and cunning of the wolf and worg; all of these are aspects of the responsibility I was charged with. Don’t fight these my son, use their natural gifts and they will serve you well in your quest. Now go dear one, with my blessing… and my love.”

 

And then Link found himself standing once more, inches from the face of the great ring. He felt a wetness on his cheeks and brought his fingertips up to inspect them, though he could already smell the saltiness from the tears.

 

“Goodbye, mother.” He said in a whisper.

 

* * *

 

“Ashenvale is no place for tourists.” The orc lieutenant grunted towards the two women. “Even for a warrior as honored as Shaggara. This is still a contested region and a war zone, no matter how much progress against the night elves we may have made.”

 

Shaggara nodded at his attempt at respect, though her frustration became apparent on her face.

 

They had hired wind riders to take them north from the crossroads to the Horde outpost known as Splintertree Post, which was the main hub of all traffic for the Horde through Ashenvale. The fort stood in the north of the province, standing roughly in between where east met west and served as the primary military garrison for the region.

 

Most of the post had been dug into the stone face of a hillside. The garrison “burrow” as the orcs called it ran in a tunnel deep within the rock. But nearby stood a few small but sturdy buildings, built in the orc fashion, which served as an inn and a few small trade shops.

 

Upon arrival, they continued in their inquiries regarding Shaggara’s friend reasoning that if he had flown into Ashenvale on a hired wind rider, he would have had to have stopped here. Upon learning that a Forsaken mage had in fact arrived in Ashenvale and then proceeded to head east, they sought to hire or purchase riding worgs to follow.

 

It wasn’t long before an orc soldier stepped in to try and dissuade them of that idea.

 

“We mean to cause no trouble.” Zelda told him. “We are only looking to find a friend that passed through to the east.”

 

“And that might be suicide, Blood Elf.” The orc retorted as he eyed both women appraisingly. “We have demons constantly making raids on us. There is a satyr encampment dead along the road east. And, there are Night Elf rangers and sentinels, whom you don’t get to see until they’ve got an arrow in your gut, patrolling all the roads from here to Azshara just looking to spill orc blood.” He said when his eyes were on Shaggara, and then turning to Zelda he added, “I needn’t remind you of their particular dislike for your kind either, I hope.”

 

“Why?” Zelda asked innocently.

 

The orc soldier gave her a skeptical look with his eyes which seemed to say, “seriously?”

 

“We are more than capable of protecting ourselves, grunt.” Shaggara growled, and it wasn’t difficult to read the insult in her face which she had taken. “Or would you care for a demonstration?”

 

The orc stiffened at the challenge and Zelda could see the anger rising within him, but then it died down as Shaggara took a step towards him, a low growl emanating from her throat, one clawed hand on the axe she carried at her side. Then he snorted and took a step back from her.

 

“Whatever.” He finally said. “It’s your funeral pyre. The stable master is over there.” He said gesturing down the road from the building which served as an inn. “Though I wouldn’t count on him having any worgs to spare.” He then moved off, leaving the two women on their own.

 

“Come, let us see what is available.” Shaggara said as she began down the road.

 

Zelda followed after her. “The soldier seemed to know you.” She said.

 

“Yes.” Shaggara responded. “Shaggara has been many places, fought many battles. Shaggara is no stranger to Ashenvale, or its problems. The lieutenant was right. This is no place for tourists. There is heavy fighting still here.”

 

“What are your people fighting with the Night Elves over?” Zelda asked.

 

“Wood. Resources to build our homes and feed our families. You saw the barren land we now call home. The earth there is nearly dead, and little will grow. If we are to survive, we must have supplies. The Night Elves refused to trade with us, even when we tried to negotiate and offer fair compensation.” Shaggara told her, a certain bitterness creeping into her voice.

 

“So your people just took it?” Zelda asked.

 

“What else would you have us do? What else can we do when our people are homeless and our children have no food to eat? Do we watch them die of hunger? Should we listen to their cries while the Night Elves close their borders without mercy and watch from a distance? That is not the orc way.” Shaggara said without shame. A fierce pride crept into her voice instead. “We are warriors, princess. We will take peace first when we can, but if we must fight in order to survive, we will.” She then added, “What would you do if your child was starving, and your neighbor had a storage bin full of food, and no matter what price you offered, no matter what reason or kindness you showed, they would not share it? Would you let your child starve to leave your neighbor inviolate?”

 

The princess had no ready answer for her, her own mind and heart at war with the strong sense of right and wrong that felt so offended and confused by the prospect. What would she do? Then she thought of another ruler from long, long ago. A powerful king from a desert people who had also seen things in a similar way. Certainly he was wrong, wasn’t he? But then could she let her own people go without so easily?

 

Shaggara let the matter drop as they reached the stable master. He was a short, green goblin dressed in a white dress shirt and a gray woolen waistcoat with matching trousers. His polished leather boots completed the look of a businessman. He had beady little eyes and a wary look about him as the two women approached him.

 

The stable itself was really just a series of posts which had been hammered into the ground with a hide shelter stretched over poles covering it. Few animals remained as the two surveyed their choices.

 

“Can I help you fine ladies today?” The goblin asked in a smooth voice. His jet back hair had been slicked back and styled in a way which Zelda hoped his own people found flattering.

 

“We are looking to hire or purchase mounts. We need to ride east.” Shaggara told him.

 

“Very dangerous!” The goblin responded quickly. “Very dangerous indeed! And if I had the worgs I had yesterday, I would have given them to you at half price, but sadly they went to the war effort.” The goblin truly looked disappointed at this thought. “But!” He then said, talking fast and pointing with an index finger, “I do happen to have something a little more exotic. A pair of animals all the way from the human kingdoms far to the east! They’re called ‘horses’! And they’re built for speed! The kind of speed you may need if you want to go east and outrun Alliance forces, yes?” He said, looking hopefully back and forth between the two women.

 

“Horses?” Zelda asked, an image of her own beloved Starfire running through her mind. “Show me.” She said.

 

“Why yes ma’am! Right over here!” The goblin said excitedly, a certain gleem in his eye.

 

The salesman led them towards the back of the pen where two palamino horses were tied up and munching on some grasses and apples which had been haphazardly dropped in front of them. They both wore saddles which carried crests and sigils which were unfamiliar to Zelda, but appeared to mean something to Shaggara.

 

“These saddles are from Theramore, Jaina Proudmoore’s lands.” Shaggara observed with growing distaste for the goblin. “She has always been fair and honorable to us.”

 

“Are they? I had no idea.” The goblin replied innocently.

 

“And there are fresh blood stains across them.” The orc woman said upon further inspection, her voice deepening into a growl.

 

“Well, they were used you know. I just got them in this morning. A certain troll warrior brought them in and traded them to me.” The goblin said, a charming smile plastered all over his face.

 

“They’re beautiful.” Zelda said as she approached one animal to inspect it herself, and she meant it. She knew about horses having ridden from the time she was very young. Whomever was the previous owner, they obviously took good care of them. They were good, healthy specimens of what a riding animal should be. Turning to Shaggara she said, “They’re in good condition.”

 

Shaggara then looked down at the grinning salesman and asked the question he’d been waiting to hear, “How much?”

 

“Oh, well, for you ladies, I guess I could part with them, for say… eighty gold? That’s fair for such fine animals, wouldn’t you say?” The goblin replied.

 

“Two gold.” Shaggara responded.

 

The goblin laughed at her. “You must be joking dear lady, but I can see your friend really appreciates a fine quality animal when she sees one. So, let’s say seventy gold?”

 

“Four.” Shaggara responded.

 

The goblin’s smile faded and was replaced with something decidedly less friendly, but still willing to do business. His hands began gesturing wildly, his eyes and expression steely as he began to haggle back and forth with the orc woman for some time.

 

Half an hour later, Shaggara and Zelda found themselves riding away from Splintertree Post at a fast trot. This time it was Shaggara who appeared to be somewhat awkward riding an unfamiliar animal, though she took to it quickly. In the end, her coin purse became ten gold pieces lighter, though she seemed satisfied even as the goblin cursed and spat.

 

The road east curved north for some distance before turning back eastwards. Zelda felt more relaxed, and more herself than she had for some time as she rode comfortably in the saddle. It brought back good memories to her.

 

“My people have their own outriders that patrol this road for some distance. We shouldn’t meet any Alliance forces for some time.” Shaggara told her. “If Shaggara is right, the ruins we seek are not far up the road. Maybe a couple of hours of riding these animals. There is a Night Elf dig site at an ancient city or town called Forest Song. We will have to be very careful, but Shaggara thinks we can slip in unnoticed, especially while the sun is still high in the sky. Night Elves sleep during the day. If Gereth has been there, we will find out.”

 

The next two hours were spent focusing on the road ahead. Ashenvale felt beautiful and untamed to Zelda. There was a peace about the forest around here, but also a sadness she felt, and an unease. The forests of Ashenvale seemed to have a personality that was watching her, judging her as though it didn’t know what to do with the stranger that rode with one of the green skinned warrior intruders.

 

They passed armed orcs on the back of riding worgs several times as the Horde soldiers patrolled the eastern roads of the province which they controlled. Zelda felt red eyes on her more than once as the soldiers passed by them, though they did nothing to impede the women.

 

Shaggara must have noticed, because she dropped back to ride next to Zelda and said, “Pay them no mind. Many of the warriors here have lost friends to Night Elf blades and arrows. Your appearance reminds them of this, whether you are Night Elf or not. There was also a time when your people were allied with the humans against us during the second war. Trust is a difficult thing to come by between former enemies.”

 

“Your world is truly complicated, Shaggara.” Zelda replied, trying to wrap her mind around all of the complex interactions between the disparate races.

 

“Indeed.” The orc woman responded. “It is said, in the ancient past, that the Kaldorei and the Sindorei were one people, and it was after a great cataclysm that destroyed most of this world’s land and created the great sea and the maelstrom that they separated. One to follow nature, the stars, and the night, and one to follow arcane magic, the sun, and the day. Shaggara has seen great people from both, and great cowards. The same with humans and orcs. The balance of courage, wisdom, and power knows no race or caste.”

 

“What did you say?” Zelda turned her head and looked at her in surprise.

 

“The balance of courage, wisdom, and power knows no race or caste.” Shaggara repeated for her. “Is this such a strange concept for you? Shaggara had thought better of you, princess.”

 

“No, it’s not that it’s just...” Zelda never got to finish her sentence as an arrow whizzed by her head, followed by another just over the surface of her shoulder.

 

“Sentinels!” Shaggara announced. “Ride, Zelda!” The orc kicked at her horse and Zelda followed suit, not needing to be told twice. The animals launched themselves into a full gallop on the road away from their unseen attackers and Zelda and Shaggara held on, bent over their pommels, streamlining themselves as though they were jockeys trying to win a trophy.

 

But then Zelda found herself disoriented as the ground beneath seemed to trade places with the sky above and she found herself flying through the air backwards. As the ground rushed up to meet her, something inside her awakened and she pulled her knees into herself and hit the ground in a roll before she launched herself back to her feet and took in the scene around her as though by instinct. The combat lessons of a tall, shadowy instructor with silver white hair rushed through her mind and muscle memory. The triangle mark on her right hand flashed with a golden light.

 

Her eyes sharpened and she saw the movement among the trees of violet skinned archers with long, sharp ears like her own and bright neon green and blue hair. She scanned the road and found her palamino on it’s back on the ground unmoving. Shaggara lay not far from Zelda, though she did not hit the ground with as much skill as Zelda had found within herself and was struggling to bring herself to her feet.

 

Zelda’s sharp ears heard another arrow knocked. She leaped towards her friend, threw up her hands, palms outward protectively and cried out the name of a goddess of her world, “Nayru!”

 

Instantly the air around her and her friend coalesced and hardened into a transparent, yet adamantine shield. The next thing she heard and saw were dark arrows with sharp metal tips smashing themselves on its surface.

 

Somehow, she knew the blessing of her patron goddess would only hold for about a minute or so before it faded again. She turned her attention to their attackers in the woods. She was able to count three of them that she could discern. All of them held resolute determination in their eyes as they knocked more arrows. They seemed to know the shield wouldn’t hold forever as well, and they could be patient.

 

“Zelda, what…?” Shaggara asked groggily, but the princess could not answer her just yet. She searched deep within herself and found a power that she hadn’t realized before. She stretched out her hands as though holding a bow, and suddenly an elegant golden bow with a quiver of arrows seemingly made of pure light appeared in her hands, and she found she knew how to use them quite well and to lethal effect.

 

She knocked one of these arrows of light, and drew back the bow. The weight of its bowstring seemed to have been made just for her as she pulled it taut with ease. Though, in her heart, she would not aim to kill and she knew it.

 

Suddenly those Night Elf sentinels hidden among the trees found themselves under attack by streaks of light that found their marks nailing hands to bows and the trunks of trees. More arrows flew smashing those weapons and the quivers which held their ammunition which had been used against the riders which had been felled on the road, and the sentinels then realized the danger they themselves were now in. Who was this light skinned Blood Elf who wielded such command over the Light?

 

“Out of respect for your cause and your forest, I am sparing your lives!” Zelda called out. “I understand you are just protecting your home! But we are only passing through as peaceful travelers seeking a friend! We mean no harm to this land! Leave us in peace, and we will respect you as well!”

 

There was silence except for the sound of moans of pain coming from the trees. And then, after several minutes, Zelda heard the tell tale sounds of rustling through the bushes indicating that the sentinels were moving off.

 

When the danger had passed, Zelda then turned her attention to her friend who sat on the ground staring at her with a hardened though curious expression. Then the orc’s face softened, and she remarked, “There is more to you than meets the eye Shaggara thinks, Princess Zelda. Much, much more.”

 

“I… I don’t know...” Zelda struggled to explain. The truth was she had little idea as to what just happened, or what the feelings of memories which had been awakened within her meant or where they came from. “I’ve never done that before.” She finally managed to say. “Any of it.”

 

Zelda looked at the back of her right hand, knowing what the mark meant and what her own mother had told her about its power. The faint outline of a golden light seemed to burn and dance across the skin.

 

“Come, help Shaggara to her feet.” Shaggara said, reaching out a hand to Zelda who helped pull the orc woman to a standing position. “We walk from here, Shaggara thinks.” The warrior said, gesturing to the dead animals which now lay sprawled and unmoving on the road. “Unless you are able to raise the dead as well.”

 

The thought would have been ridiculous only moments before, but now Zelda herself wondered in all seriousness. “Not that I know of,” she replied lightly.

 

“Come, princess. We have come most of the way. It is not far up the road now, and Shaggara is in one piece. She has survived much, much worse.” The orc woman said. “Let us find our mage.”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

It was mid-afternoon when Shaggara and Zelda saw the great Kaldorei arch which marked the ruins of the town known as Forest Song. Dark azure banners with Night Elf sigils hung from it, proclaiming their undisputed claim over the fallen structures and buckled, overgrown avenues. Set deeper into the forest, ironically it was still not far off the main road, but rather close as though it were still a functioning community and destination for weary travelers.

 

“The last Shaggara was here was many years ago,” the orc woman told Zelda. “And then, there were only a handful of academics and Kaldorei who were here researching this place. For all Shaggara knows, they might have been the original townsfolk coming home to try and rebuild.”

 

“The ruins can’t be very old then, can they?” Zelda asked, confused.

 

“Night Elves rarely die of natural causes. Shaggara has heard that it is their connection to their moonwells and to the natural world that gives them a near immortality. Those sentinels that attacked us may easily be thousands of years old.” Her companion replied.

 

Zelda tried to comprehend the breadth and scope of such a long life. What would it be like? Strangely, deep within her being she knew the answer, and not from simple insight. She didn’t know how she knew, but somewhere with her she could feel joys and sadnesses, great loves and losses multiplied by hundreds and even thousands of lifetimes.

 

“Are you well, princess?” Shaggara’s voice broke through her internal contemplation.

 

Freed for a moment, Zelda looked into the sincere, savagely beautiful face of her warrior friend and saw deep concern. She smiled, trying to recover herself, and said, “Yes. I was just trying to imagine such a long life, that’s all.”

 

“Mmm.” Was Shaggara’s response, though the look of concern did not leave her expression.

 

As the two women wandered through the archway, suddenly Shaggara pulled Zelda to the side and behind some lush brush and undergrowth, her hand over her mouth. When they were both down on the ground, Shaggara pulled her hand away and pointed, showing Zelda what she had seen and heard.

 

Beyond their vantage point were the stone ruins of a once large outpost or town surrounded by dense, thriving forest. On the western side there still stood a great tall tower with a stone bridge or rampway leading up to its entrance. Scattered across the site were several crumbling and ruined stone buildings which Zelda guessed were houses, shops, a temple perhaps by the architecture, as well as scattered blocks of stone and fallen columns.

 

Curiously, none of the stone had been overgrown with foliage. After this long, one would have expected the forest to reclaim its own. But it seemed to be held back. And then Zelda saw what Shaggara had seen and quickly sought a hiding spot for both of them. There, among the ruins were dozens of azure and violet skinned humanoids. As Zelda paid more attention, she noticed several large tents set up among the ruins as though a major excavation was in progress.

 

A few of these were like the Night Elves that Zelda had glimpsed through the brush. Most of them however were different from the elves. They had hooves for feet, and long tails. Bony protrusions sprouted from their otherwise dark haired heads. Most were walking around with papers and books like many other academics Zelda had met in her life, but some were well armed and seemed to be watching over their more studious companions.

 

As they watched, Zelda felt a tingling, and then a burning sensation coming from her right hand as though it had become electrified. She instinctively scratched lightly at it, though did not look.

 

“I thought you said there were only a handful of Night Elves, and they would be asleep during the day?” Zelda whispered to her friend.

 

“That was almost twenty years ago,” Shaggara replied quietly. “Obviously, something has made this site of some importance to Alliance scholars since then.”

 

The sensation from her hand continued, and Zelda scratched more at it.

 

“I haven’t seen that race before. Who are they?” Zelda asked.

 

“They call themselves the Draenei, though they come from the same world Shaggara’s people did. There was a time, in the time of Shaggara’s mother’s mother’s mother, that they and orcs were at peace and even friendly with one another, but no more.” Shaggara answered.

 

“Ah!” Zelda winced. The burning sensation increased and Zelda finally pulled her hand towards her face to see what was causing the issue. She turned it to inspect the back of her slender, feminine hand. As she did, the irritation began to ease, but the electrified sensation would not cease.

 

The triangle mark on her hand was glowing, outlining the three golden triangles that comprised it. One triangle in the bottom corner had distinguished itself as a solid piece of golden light. _The Triforce of Wisdom_ , Zelda thought to herself. _But why is it revealing itself?_ She didn’t know, but as she paid attention to it, she felt drawn towards the ruined tower which still stood.

 

“What is wrong?” Shaggara whispered.

 

Zelda showed her, being careful to keep the mark from being seen outside the brush.

 

“What does that mean?” The orc asked.

 

“It’s only happened before when it comes close to one of its sister pieces, or when its powers are being drawn on.” Zelda replied.

 

“Like back on the road.” Shaggara observed.

 

Zelda nodded.

 

“So what does it mean now?” Shaggara asked. “Is something happening with you again?”

 

“I don’t think so. I think it’s trying to get my attention; something about the tower there.” Zelda pointed with her left hand towards the mostly intact structure. It seemed, for the moment, to be ignored by most of the site’s denizens as they focused on other, apparently more interesting places to dig and study.

 

Shaggara considered this new information silently. She then went back to observing the Alliance people there.

 

As they watched the various researchers and guards go about their business, it became clear that there was no way they were going to be able to search the ruins themselves. It also became clear that if Gereth had been here, he was now gone.

 

“Is it possible he could be working with the researchers?” Zelda asked.

 

Shaggara snorted. “No. Neither Night Elves nor the Draenei would ever consent to working with those like Gereth, regardless of the pursuit. Had they been aware of his presence, they would have tried to destroy him.”

 

 _What is it about Gereth’s people that so disturbs even their allies?_ Zelda wondered to herself. Shaggara still had not gone into details about the answer to that question.

 

Shaggara began looking around them, in particular through the brush. “Come, there is one other place near here, deep in the forest, where he might still be if he has not yet moved on. One that might have been of interest to him.”

 

The orc woman quietly pointed towards a narrow forest path flattened smooth by the animals that used it to traverse the Ashenvale forest undergrowth. It wound its way north and east through the woods from their position.

 

Both she and Zelda quietly arose from where they had been squatting low and headed down the forest path.

 

When they were some distance out of sight of the ruins and their occupants, Shaggara, “There is a clearing Shaggara was once told of by a Tauren friend. There is a great relic there, Shaggara was told. It is held sacred to the Druids. It lies in this direction. It is possibly as old or older than the ruins of Forest Song itself. He may have gone there.”

 

They slipped through the brush as silently as possible, hoping their movements would be taken as deer, wolves, or some other of the forest’s native inhabitants. After over half an hour of trekking, however, they neither saw nor heard anyone in pursuit. Though after the road incident, Shaggara was no longer as concerned if they had. She might appear pampered and soft in her appearance, but there was so much more to this otherworldly princess that she did not even seem to know herself, and was only now discovering.

 

The trees ahead of them began to thin out, and Shaggara and Zelda saw the beginnings of a clearing where sunlight seemed to happily cut through the forest and enliven the grass and green growing things there.

 

And then they saw the clearing’s inhabitants, and once more they had to take cover lest they might be seen. The huge centaur like warriors were well armored from head to toe. Instead of a horse’s body and a human torso, as one might expect, these carried the lower body of a green dragon, and the upper, incredibly muscular torso just barely resembled something humanoid. Their weapons were massive, and they seemed to be under constant patrol.

 

“Green Dragonkin.” Shaggara pronounced. “Very, very dangerous. They appear to be guarding the clearing.”

 

“Whose faction are they with? Alliance or Horde?” Zelda asked.

 

“They are with no one’s faction, princess. Shaggara has heard many tales told of the dragonkin, where they come from, and what their purpose is. These are green dragonkin. It is reasonable to assume that they are watchers for Ysera, the patron of the Druids.” Shaggara said.

 

“Ysera? Is she a goddess of this world?” Zelda asked.

 

“I have heard many contradictory things on that point,” Shaggara said. “But with all the reverence paid her by the Druids, she might as well be. According to most, she is one of the great elemental dragons tasked with guarding and preserving this world by the Titans, the deities who supposedly created this world.”

 

 _No. Not created, merely shaped._ The thought flew through Zelda’s mind so quickly it barely had time to process.

 

“What elemental force does she guard?” Zelda asked, ignoring the rogue thought.

 

 _Nature, the forest, and all living things as you well know._ Her subconscious mind threw the answer at her before she could consciously process it.

 

“Nature. This is why the Druids so revere her.” Shaggara replied.

 

 _The guardians will recognize me._ _They will acquiesce to me and mine._ This thought came through clear and strong, and from where Zelda didn’t know. But she felt the truth of it deeply, so deeply it frightened her.

 

It was then that she noticed the burning sensation emanating from her right hand again. As she looked at it, she saw that the mark on her hand had been outlined with a fierce golden light as the strange line of thought persisted.

 

“It glows again.” Shaggara noticed. “What is it, now?”

 

It made little rational sense to her, but Zelda knew what she had to do, and it didn’t involve hiding in the bushes. More and more the urge, the _instinct_ within her began to take over much as on the road. Her sight and her hearing became much clearer. She felt an energy course through her, a power that she still didn’t understand but it felt not just a part of her, but integral to her very being.

 

Without an answer to the orc, she stood up from where they had been squatting and strode confidently out from the shadows of the trees, her bearing regal and nearly glowing with authority.

 

Shaggara did not try and stop her, but watched the scene silently. She fully believed that Zelda herself did not understand what was happening with her. But whatever was happening with the Hylian had something to do with the glowing triangles she called the _Triforce_ in her “legend”, and in particular the one which seemed imbedded in her right hand. There were forces at work with the elven princess that Shaggara had learned long ago to not put to the test too much, else she might find herself on the receiving end as many of her comrades had over the years. They tried to fight the whirlwind with their strength and cunning alone, and found themselves shattered by it. Shaggara knew her own limits. She had tested them again and again. The power of the triangles was beyond her.

 

Zelda came to stand out in the open. Her head erect, her posture queenly and dominant. Then she caught the attention of a nearby dragonkin, and Shaggara waited to see the outcome, her breathing slow and deliberate.

 

The dragonkin raised it’s weapon and approached the intruder threateningly as though it would impale the fragile looking princess on its blade and be done with it. Then Zelda calmly held up the back of her right hand for the creature to see as it drew closer.

 

The drakonkin stopped dead in its tracks. Its clawed feet seemed to dig into the earth pensively, as though it wasn’t certain as to how to respond. Clearly, it had been caught off guard.

 

Shaggara rose from her own position and crept closer, cat-like and stealthy so as not to attract the wrong kind of attention to herself. As she did, she got a better look at the dragon-kin’s face. It looked like a confused child, not sure of which parent to obey.

 

Finally, the dragonkin lowered its weapon, letting the tip sink to the ground. Then she saw something she would never have expected, though somehow it didn’t seem that surprising. The fearsome warrior creature dropped it’s forelegs to its knees, and bowed deeply, touching its chest with the fist of its free hand. She heard a deep, rumbling voice, one which reminded her of the creature’s monstrous and powerful ancestry, utter with fear and respect, “My Lady, how may I serve you?”

 

 _Who is Zelda? What is she?_ Shaggara wondered with amazement. In her lifetime she had seen dragons or dragonkin bow to no one, no matter how powerful or fearsome. Ever.

 

“I seek a Forsaken mage who may have passed through here.” Zelda told the warrior, her voice dripping with authority and unquestionable power and wisdom.

 

The dragonkin warrior did not raise his head, but answered, “There was one such as you describe, My Lady. He attempted to seek the portal to the Emerald Dream. His corpse lies there.”

 

The creature gestured off to his right. Zelda’s head turned in the direction, and without turning it back, she asked, “So he is dead?”

 

“He was never alive, My Lady. But he has since stopped moving.” The dragonkin responded.

 

Zelda turned back to look at the dragonkin. She told him, “Another warrior has come with me. One of the orcs. She is under my protection. You will serve her as you serve me. Do you understand?”

 

Without missing a beat, the dragonkin warrior responded, “As you wish, My Lady.”

 

Zelda then called out, “Shaggara, you may come out of the trees now. The guardian will do you no harm.”

 

Shaggara stepped forth from the shadows of the trees, and approached her friend, coming to stand next to the much changed young elf woman, though she remained silent at the scene. In truth, there was nothing she could say to express all the emotions that ran through her heart and mind.

 

“Come. Let us see to our friend.” Zelda said, turning to go in the direction the dragonkin warrior indicated. She motioned for Shaggara to follow. When the guardian remained where he was, without turning around, Zelda called out, “Come!” And the warrior rose from his knees and followed behind both subserviently, and protectively.

 

After a few minutes walk through the clearing, they came upon what appeared to be a partially decayed human corpse wrapped in a dark red robe lying on its stomach. Bits of bone could be seen, and the flesh had long ago turned a sickly green color. The hair as well, once perhaps blond, was a sickly, decayed greenish yellow.

 

Shaggara bent down over the corpse, and rolled it over onto its back. It was stiff and somewhat unyielding as she did so, but she was able to uncover the poor man’s decayed face, which, surprisingly, seemed mostly intact. A fine layer of beard stubble decorated his cheeks and chin. Zelda could tell at one time he had been a strikingly handsome man before his death. His eyeballs, open and exposed were glazed over white.

 

Then Shaggara did a strange thing to Zelda, she began to rifle through his robes as though looking for something.

 

“What are you looking for?” Zelda asked, her voice somewhat returning to normal.

 

“A potion he keeps on himself for situations like this.” Shaggara responded.

 

“Shaggara,” Zelda tried to say as compassionately and comforting as she could, “He’s been dead for a long time. There’s little left to do but commit his soul to the goddesses.”

 

“Ah!” Shaggara gave a little shout of triumph. She pulled out from beneath his robes a small black vial which she uncorked. She then dribbled a few drops of its contents onto the dead and deteriorating lips.

 

“Shaggara...” Zelda began again. The man must have meant something special to the orc woman for her to be in such denial about his condition, Zelda was certain.

 

Shaggara smirked strangely, and then said, “Perhaps one day we will, but it is not this day.”

 

Then the corpse’s eyes began to blink. From within it’s rotting mouth, a tongue began to move and lick the decaying lips to moisten them. Then its whole body began to shift and move and much to Zelda’s horror, the corpse sat up. It looked back and forth between the two women, blinking its eyes as though it had just had a good nap.

 

“Shaggara?” A younger man’s voice came from the corpse’s mouth. “What are you doing here? It’s not safe.”

 

“Shaggara would ask you the same, my friend.” Shaggara responded. “The Kaldorei do not respond well to the presence of the Forsaken.”

 

“Unfortunately, few do. So it is our lot in life… or death if you like.” The corpse returned wistfully.

 

Zelda watched the surreal scene and felt at a total loss. What had happened and how was this possible?

 

“Gereth?” Zelda asked the corpse in disbelief.

 

“So my orcish friend has told you all about me, has she?” Gereth replied. Then seeing the look on her face, he said, “Or perhaps not everything. Shaggara my dear, did you perhaps leave out one important detail about me? Tsk. Tsk.”

 

Shaggara smiled at him. “Not so important as some believe, my friend.”

 

“Shaggara, what is happening?” Zelda asked, still trying to wrap her mind around the scene in front of her.

 

“I can see you’re quite disturbed at my… condition. Funny, I thought the Sindorei were quite amiable to my people.” Gereth told her as he pulled a water skin from somewhere in his robes and began to drink.

 

“She is not Sindorei.” Shaggara explained. “She does not understand what happened during the third war.”

 

The living corpse turned his body to study Zelda more closely. His eyes, though clearly dead, still seemed quite intelligent and quick witted as he appraised his friend’s new companion. He then nodded, saying, “Perhaps then that is a story worth telling, but not here and now. For now, my dear, suffice it to say that my people were victims of a plague. It killed all of us, myself included. Imagine my surprise when I woke up again. But that is a story for another time. Right now, I’m glad you are here. I am close, Shaggara. I am so close to finding it, the answer for me, and maybe my people. It’s here, I know it’s here.”

 

“What is here?” Shaggara asked him as he reached out to her a bony hand covered in a dark red cloth glove. She took it and helped him to his feet.

 

The man… corpse... was tall and broad shouldered as he stood up. His hair lay full and playful across his scalp. Echoes of his original, living presence appeared strongly, though twisted by the ravages of a plague that he could not control.

 

“The Golden Flame, my dear. I am convinced of it. I mean, it’s not here where we are right now, but back there in Forest Song. I’m convinced that the tower holds the key to it.” Gereth gestured back towards the archaeological site.

 

It was then that he saw the dragonkin warrior that had followed Zelda, and still appeared at her beck and call.

 

“Um...” He began. “Is there something you’d like to tell _me_ now?”

 

“Much. But not here. Why did you come this close to the portal?” Shaggara asked.

 

“Because I thought maybe the key to unlocking the tower was here somewhere, but I found nothing. And then my invisibility potion wore off, and I didn’t have any more. Imagine the dragonkin’s surprise when they suddenly found one of ‘me’ wandering so close to their gateway. So, I did what my people do best. I played dead. I let one of them hit me, and then I took a little potion induced nap. I guess I took more than I thought.” Gereth explained.

 

“We need to talk.” Shaggara told him. “But not here. Somewhere safer.”

 

“Of course. Now that I have seen this area, I should be able to open a portal back here without too much difficulty. I’m actually very good at portal magic, you know. I just don’t always have the materials for it.” He then brought out a small stone covered in runes from within his robe. “So, Shaggara, what will it be? Orgimmar? The Undercity, or Thunderbluff if you’re feeling like something spiritual and rustic?” Then looking at Zelda he then said, “I know just the place to make our dear new friend feel welcome, Silvermoon! There’s a very good inn there with some great food, or at least so I am told. My taste buds aren’t what they used to be I’m afraid.” The corpse gave a lopsided grin, which, in spite of herself, Zelda found quite charming.

 

Shaggara nodded. “That will be good.” She then turned to Zelda and said, “I don’t know what magics or influence you used on the guardian, but he cannot follow us through the portal. It would be… problematic.”

 

Zelda still stood somewhat in shock over the whole situation, but she then snapped herself out of it and said, “Oh, yes.”

 

Turning to the guardian, Zelda resumed her regal bearing and told the dragonkin, “I release you for the time being. Resume your duties here until my return.”

 

The creature saluted her and bowed again saying, “My Lady, I await your return.” Then he turned and resumed his patrol through the clearing, away from the three beings now standing there.

 

“You have got to teach me that trick.” Gereth said in awe.

 

“I wish I knew myself.” Zelda replied.

 

Gereth then gripped the stone tightly in his gloved hand and closed his milky white eyes. Chanting something in a language Zelda found familiar though unintelligible, he then stretched out his hand and the space in front of him seemed to warp and turn in on itself creating a distortion in the fabric of reality which resembled a bright blue puddle of brightly lit water.

 

“Silvermoon is waiting.” Gereth then said, and with a flourished bow and polite gesture towards the distortion, he said, “Ladies first,” inviting them to step through.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

 _Ganondorf…_ A voice called to him from the darkness of the twisting void he had been floating in, calling him back from it.

 

One eyelid managed to flutter open. A few minutes later, the other one joined it. The olive green skinned prisoner’s eyes slowly came back into focus as his conscious mind and awareness became active once more. He felt the bindings on his wrists and ankles once more, and found that the nightmare he had been suddenly immersed in had not yet ended.

 

 _Awaken Gerudo king…_ The voice continued.

 

Pain. Pain streaked through his body once more, but it ran so much deeper than that. He fought back tears that were born of more than the physical pain. He refused to show weakness to this foul Hylian sorcerer that had managed to entrap him. But the sense of violation ran deep through him, as though something integral to him had been stripped away.

 

 _Your work is not yet done…_ The voice was soothing, almost paternal to him.

 

Powerless. He felt as powerless as though standing before a sandstorm that he knew would strip the flesh from his bones in seconds. He felt drained of all the energy and magic which he had held within him. He had no strength to even prop up his head, but he was alive.

 

“Awake again, I see.” The Hylian said, his voice neutral. “I can honestly say I’m rather pleased you survived the extraction process. To be honest, it required so much arcane energy to remove the relic, I thought it would rip your mortal body apart.” He paused for a minute and then said, “You know, your race appears very orc-like, except for the tusks and the upper body size. I hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps there is a relationship worth studying.”

 

The Hylian stood only a few feet in front of him, close enough for the prisoner to see his dark azure cloth robes and slippers, though not his face. He didn’t have the strength to angle his head to see that. He saw nothing through his eyes which led him to believe he had been moved at all.

 

 _Duazhen_. That was the Hylian’s name, Ganondorf remembered. Then he thought, _What extraction process?_ But he was too weak to say anything. Instead, he just tried to locate the man with his eyes.

 

“I can see it took its toll on you, regardless. Well, no matter. I can restore some of your strength to you in time; enough to answer some of my questions about this relic anyway. I have no interest in either your death or your life after that. Perhaps I may even be able to send you back to where I drew you from, if you cooperate with my work.” Duazhen told him.

 

The Hylian then held out a very familiar golden triangle in his gloved hand. It seemed to shift this way and that, and no matter which angle it was viewed from, it always appeared as a triangle as though its existence and form extended into other dimensions hidden from the mortal eye. It glowed a golden white with an internal energy and light.

 

“You must know how to use it, yes?” He asked.

 

The man waved it in front of Ganondorf’s face tauntingly, but the former king of the Gerudos could do nothing but watch.

 

 _We could destroy him._ The though passed through the prisoner’s mind, though while he agreed with it, it did not feel as though it originated with him. _How dare he take the Triforce of Power from you!_

 

“Yes,” the sorcerer continued. “It isn’t like any other magical relic I’ve ever studied, and to be honest, I was led to believe it would bend to my will with merely a wish. Since I found it fused to your soul, a reasonable conclusion is that you have the information I want.”

 

 _You could be a channel for my power if you would lend yourself to me. Together, we could show this fool the true meaning of ‘power’_. The thought drifted through his mind, tantalizingly. But then his spirit rebelled against it.

 

“I… am… no… one’s… slave...” His lips moved, mouthing the words though no sound came forth.

 

 _Who said anything about being a slave? You and I are kindred spirits, Ganondorf the Great. We want only the power to do what others will not._ I _am the power you seek, the voice in the darkness, the fire in your heart. With me you will see your enemies crushed before you. Yes, even that upstart boy that bested you._ The voice spoke soothingly and cunningly to him.

“What… what do… you want?” Ganondorf mouthed.

 

_Only to be your… partner. Together, our power will burn across this world and countless others. You only need to say the word._

 

“Why… do you… need… me?” The Gerudos face and lips felt afire as he asked silently, almost imperceptibly.

 

 _Perhaps I don’t,_ came the response, _perhaps I just chose you as a kindness._

 

Ganondorf would have laughed had he the strength. He wouldn’t play the fool for this voice. He wouldn’t be anyone’s fool. He gave no reply, his amusement and disdain alone his response.

 

He felt a flash of frustration rush through his mind, and then the voice became calm and soothing again. _Perhaps I cannot manifest in my true form yet in this world. Surely you can appreciate my conundrum?_

 

More thoughts then began to flow through his mind; thoughts that fed on Ganondorf’s sense of violation and building rage, and thoughts that could only be described as increasingly demonic in origin as they promised limitless power in exchange for his cooperation. Second after second, minute after minute, his mind and soul gave way to the sweet seduction and promises of power and vengeance.

 

The Gerudo king then began to tune out the Hylian’s incessant babbling about his plans, something about remaking the world (blah, blah, blah), and began instead to listen to the voice in his mind with rapt attention.

 

Slowly, his eyes began to glow, a red flame rising within them.

 

* * *

 

“Arghhhh!” Link cried out in pain as his body began to contort in the glowing waters.

 

“Don’t fight it, use it, boy!” Oliver told him, trying to guide him. “Feel the beast within and unleash him!”

 

The Druid had smelled the elven warrior’s blood beginning to reach its critical point hours before. After as much instruction in ancient Druid rites as he could give him, he led Link to a small stone pool of water off to the east of the portal and tucked away, almost hidden out of site. Instantly he recognized it as a place of powerful magics, reminding him of other pools and fountains from his homeland, and the Great Fairies that guarded them.

 

“This is a moonwell.” He had said. “It is a deeply spiritual place, a shrine, if you will, to the Kaldorei goddess of the moon, Elune. The moon is also a deeply important symbol to us worgen as well, Link. By bathing in its waters, we call upon the moon’s blessing as well as Ysera’s.” Oliver told him. “We ask Elune to grant you and guide you in this new life under the light of the moon.”

 

The worgen Druid then insisted that Link strip down to his loin cloth, and step into the gently glowing, silver blue waters. As his first bare foot touched the water, he felt a rush of energy and strength welling up within him. He then continued, immersing the lower half of his body in the moonwell’s sacred waters. Making his way to the middle of the pool, he turned to face his new found mentor and instructor.

 

“Feel the spirit of the worg within you!” The Gilnean instructed. “Feel its heart beating, tearing to come free. Smell the air around you for the scent of your prey. Feel the brotherhood of the pack, and the noble courage of the worg in defending it.”

 

Pain! Shooting, burning pain raced through his spasming body. Link’s body spasmed, and he cried out, “AHHHHH!”.

 

Grey and white hair sprouted all over Link’s body and his limbs contorted and enlongated. His jaw and nose stretched and enlongated, and he felt something growing out from his spine’s tail bone. It was excruciating as it happened.

 

The golden triangle mark on his sword hand burned bright with a golden white light, and a single small triangle at the base lit up as a solid, and not a mere outline. Defensively, as though to keep a hold on its bearer, it forced another awakening within the Hylian, one from deep within his soul and subconscious; one which had lived and died a thousand times with a single goal in mind.

 

Finally, when he could stand it no more, he let out a great growl which became a howl which carried for miles around.

 

Then the pain suddenly ceased, and Link realized his eyes were closed tight. He opened them, nearly having to force them for fear of what they might tell him.

 

“Link?” A deep, raspy animalistic voice asked gently. “Are you still yourself?”

 

 _Am I_? Link questioned to himself. A thousand selves he had been were coalescing into a single conscious mind with access, fully conscious access to memories spanning back nearly ten millennia.

 

He looked down at himself, but it wasn’t his body. It was larger and more muscular. Grey and white fur with a dark brown and black trim covered him from head to toe. His fingers, now attached to powerful hands which seemed impossibly large terminated in sharp claws instead of fingernails. His lupine feet were no different. He could feel a strength and an agility that had never been his before. As he flexed his hands and arms, he felt the power in them. The scents and sounds of the previously quiet and serene grove assaulted his already acute senses.

 

“I don’t know.” Link responded, shakily, his own voice deep and growly.

 

“What is your name?” Oliver’s worgen voice asked.

 

Link looked towards the man, and found him replaced with the same worgen creature he had encountered back in the room in the Scarlet Raven. Though he also found that the world had gone many different shades of gray.

 

“My eyes… What happened to all the colors?” Link asked.

 

“I will tell you in time. What is your name, please?” Oliver repeated patiently.

 

The newborn worgen searched the memories of his many life times, and in every language and dialect, his name appeared as only a single meaning regardless of the evolutionary stage of the language.

 

“Link. My name is Link.” The new worgen responded.

 

“And where are you from, Link?” Oliver asked.

 

“Hyrule. I am from Hyrule.” Link answered again, though deep within himself, he knew there was a time before Hyrule as well, and a city on the sea, far, far away.

 

“Good. Good.” Oliver responded. “And what is my name, my friend?”

 

“Oliver. Oliver Harris.” Link told him. “I remember. I remember everything.” He said. “I know who I am.”

 

As memories, thoughts, and feelings came rushing into his mind, Link realized for the first time in his life, in this life, that he truly did know and understand who he was, where he had come from, and what his place was. In truth, in all of his incarnations there was only ever one purpose, and one person he fought to protect, from eternity past it seemed, ever only his one true love, and he would die a thousand times more to see her safe he knew.

 

“Good. Elune has been kind to you tonight, child of Ysera.” Oliver said. “More often than not, a worgen loses himself upon transformation. Some never recover their original form. I prayed that this would not be your fate.”

 

Link nodded his understanding. He then asked, gesturing to his new form, “Will I stay like this? Or will I be like you, and be able to change at will?”

 

“Ah, now there is the question. We will answer it together, you and I. And I think the nature dragon’s blessing upon you will be the key to answering it. It will take great discipline and control, but I sense that you are more than capable on this count.” Oliver told him.

 

As the Gilnean worgen looked into Link’s newly lupine eyes, he noticed a change in them, a depth of knowledge and experience that hadn’t been there before now. It felt as if he were in the presence of…

 

 _No matter_. He dismissed the thought. _But I will observe this one closely._ He thought to himself.

 

He then said out loud, “Come brother, I have much to teach you, and precious little time before we must make our way to Stormwind to return you to your companions tomorrow. It would be best if that first meeting were done without fur and fangs.”

 

* * *

 

They had stepped through the portal as easily as walking through a door. On one side had been the clearing where they had found Shaggara’s corpse friend. On the other, they materialized in the middle of a pleasant, park like square with benches, trees and grassy areas for people to rest and relax.

 

Zelda found herself just slightly disoriented from the experience as she looked around herself to get her bearings. As she did, she realized that the scene around her now was vastly, vastly different from the rustic, battle oriented Orc capital, or the plains tribal Tauren outpost. Instead, there was a sense of ancient, classical aesthetic that was somewhat reminiscent of the fallen ruins of Forest Song, but “evolved” somehow.

 

Glowing orbs hung from tall flowing street lamps which followed the paths of white stone roads around the central square. On either side of the central square were elegant buildings and what looked like shop fronts in a bright and sunny kind of architecture. Stylish statues of tall elven heroes and important figures in gold and bronze were placed around the square in prominent, though not overt locations around the square. It was quiet and cool though not cold, and there were few people out walking the streets. Zelda then realized why.

 

Far from being the late afternoon, she noticed that stars above them filled a night sky, while a dim glow was forming off to the east. The familiar glow of an approaching dawn.

 

“Sorry, my bad,” Gereth had said apologetically. “I forgot about the difference in time between Ashenvale and Eversong. I guess the old maggots in the brain ate a little too well while I was napping.” He quipped at his own expense. He then asked sheepishly, “So, anyone up for breakfast?”

 

The undead mage gestured in the direction of a particular shop front which was set down a short flight of marble steps and into the row of buildings off to their left, opposite the growing glow in the east. Sumptuous azure curtains draped the front entry way.

 

“I give you the Silvermoon City Inn.” He then said as he led the two women down the steps and into the entry corridor of the establishment.

 

The interior felt both luxurious and somewhat rustic. Gauzy, azure blue silk drapes hung across its entrances, and intricately designed high backed chairs stood around a large ornate table in its common eating area. This contrasted with the head of a boar which decorated one wall and the casks which had been stacked neatly under an elegant staircase with an ornately wrought golden railing.

 

Regardless of the extremely early hour, a lithe Sindorei woman came out from behind a bar to greet them. She had soft, beautiful light brown hair which hung to her shoulders, light skin, and wore a dress of green and purple that seemed both practical and exquisitely made. Even her leather sandals seemed finely made, as though for a princess. Her eyes seemed to glow with a greenish fire. Zelda felt a kind of longing for her own home when she saw her as she realized this was the first actual “Blood Elf,” as they were called, that she had met in this world, and the woman looked very, very Hylian even to her.

 

“Welcome to my humble establishment.” She said politely. Then, as Gereth dropped the cowl of his robe which he had covered his head with, there was some mild surprise and pleasure in her expression as she said, “Ah, Gereth, you’ve returned to me sooner than I expected.”

 

“Well, I heard so much about the food and wine the last time I was here, I had to bring someone with me who could taste it properly!” Gereth replied with a smile. “Sorry about the early hour, though, Velandra. We just popped in from...”

 

“Oh, that is no trouble at all!” Velandra replied. “I am always awake at this time before dawn. I like to greet the sun as it brings us into a new day.”

 

Velandra invited Zelda, Shaggara, and Gereth to sit around the table, and it was soon covered in platters and dishes of food so artistically arranged that the Hylian princess had difficulty bringing herself to disturb them regardless of her hunger. Could she have done all this herself in that short an amount of time? The princess didn’t think it was possible.

 

The centerpiece had been a small, traditionally roasted piglet with an apple stuffed in its mouth, and basted with a spiced and tangy sauce that Zelda couldn’t quite identify. The smell of it lingered in the air making her mouth water intensely. Aside from this, there had been many different kinds of fresh fruit cut artistically into the shapes of birds and animals. There had also been a kind of spiced bread. A sharp Brie cheese (“smuggled from Stormwind in the south,” or so she had been told) had been served as well with a sweet, blood red wine. Sadly, the innkeeper didn’t seem to keep any of the Blackrock coffee Zelda had sampled in the Crossroads.

 

As they sat and ate, Zelda noticed a broom sweeping itself near the entrance, and being very particular about getting the edges and corners of the walls. As her eyes seemed to be drawn around the room, she noticed a writing quill on the bar dipping itself into an inkwell and then scribbling onto a slightly yellowed sheet of parchment. The air around her seemed charged with a kind of energy that she somehow knew, though she kept her observations to herself.

 

“So, was I right about the food?” Gereth asked the two women. “I hope that Paladin wasn’t lying to me, or just talking up the food for the sake of elven pride.” He said this as he himself took a bite of the spiced bread which he had spread with a thin layer of the Brie.

 

“Can’t you taste it?” Zelda asked innocently.

 

“Only hints really.” He replied with a trace of melancholy. “As I said, my taste buds just aren’t what they used to be. Everything seems to taste of dust or mold now, no matter what it is. Sometimes, if a food has a strong enough taste to it, I can even somewhat enjoy it. Like that ale back in the hostel in the Crossroads. The ale master there brews it so strong that I can actually sip it and remember what it was like back in the tavern in Andorhal. Oddly enough, the moldy taste actually adds to the flavor.” He gave a chuckle. “It was wonderful.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Zelda said.

 

Gereth waived a hand dismissively. “Don’t be. I’ve been like this for a long time now. Years, actually. You know, I was angry at first, like most of us.”

 

“And you’re not anymore?” Zelda asked.

 

Gereth leaned back in his chair, folding his bony, gloved hands together in his lap. His gaze was drawn down to them pensively.

 

“Perhaps we should discuss...” Shaggara began, giving Zelda a stern look.

 

“No, it’s alright Shaggara. She meant no harm, and perhaps it will put my presence in Ashenvale, and my search for the relic into some perspective.” Gereth said. “Besides, it’s not a bad story, though I can’t say much for the storyteller.”

 

“Gereth...” Shaggara said, empathy filling her raspy orc voice.

 

Gereth held up his hand again. “Don’t worry my dear, I’m fine.”

 

“I’ve had to fill in the gaps over the years, you understand, as far as the backstory, in order to understand it myself.” Gereth began. “I haven’t put all the pieces into place, but I think I’ve got most of them. After the Scourge spread the plague...”

 

“What Scourge?” Zelda asked, her eyes betraying her ignorance.

 

Gereth’s white eyes went wide.

 

“Gereth, Zelda’s not from this world. She’s not from any world Shaggara has heard of. She doesn’t know anything about our history.” Shaggara told him.

 

He then looked hard at her, studying her. “I see. Well, then I start a little farther back.” He began again. “Many years ago, an army of demons ruled by a fallen immortal Titan called Sargeras attempted to invade our world. At the time, all of these lands both here in Eversong, and south of us in Lordaeron were thriving High Elven and Human civilizations. Great cities, including Silvermoon City here, Stromgarde, the ancient human capital, and the great city of Lordaeron to the southwest of us lived and thrived as well as many, many elven and human towns and villages. My town of Andorhal was one of them.

 

“One of their devices of war was a devilish plague which they used to poison their grain and water supplies. When they decided the time was right, they activated the plague and it killed almost everyone in these northern lands. Myself included.

 

“At the time, I had been just an apprentice mage. My master had told me how well my studies were going. He was going to be sending me to Dalaran to study in the great libraries and laboratories there under the eyes of the Kirin Tor. My father had already passed away, but my mother and sister lived with me in our house in the town. She was a beautiful girl who had so many suitors trying to take her away from us...” He trailed off for a minute, lost in his own thoughts. But then his expression snapped back.

 

“All of a sudden, from seemingly nowhere, people began dying in town. and not just a few people either. One day they would be fine, and going about their business eating, drinking, laughing, living… And then the next… It was awful to watch. I watched my mother and sister be taken first. They had always held more delicate constitutions. The plague consumed them quickly. The symptoms began after breakfast, and then they were just _gone_ by evening. The bodies of the plague victims began to pile so fast there was nowhere to put them. Then, one morning, I started retching up blood and doubling over. It wasn’t long before I joined them. I actually remember my last thought before everything went dark. Do you know what it was? I thought, I hope I get to see my father again.”

 

Gereth looked as though he might have wept at the memory, though no tears came forth down his decayed face.

 

“The next thing I remember was opening my eyes again. Do you know where I was? I was in a graveyard lying among countless other corpses. I was breathing. I was somehow alive. I thought, maybe I’ve beaten it somehow. Maybe I was in the graveyard by mistake. And then I looked at my hands.”

 

Gereth took off the glove of his right hand and showed it to the young elven woman. Tattered and torn skin, green from decay covered most, but not all of the bone and tissues underneath. The tips of his fingers had almost completely rotted away and all that remained were the tips of off-white bone protruding.

 

Zelda felt her gorge rise as she saw it, and then quickly tried to force it back down. “Holy goddesses...” She whispered.

 

“Yes, that was similar to my reaction.” Gereth said knowingly, replacing the glove and hiding the deformed and rotting appendage once more. “I didn’t know what had happened or why, but somehow I was alive, and yet not. As I looked around me that night, I saw others like myself rising from where their bodies had been lain; many, many others, though not all of the dead that had been left there. I searched the graveyard for some time and finally found my mother and sister. They didn’t wake up with me.”

 

Zelda’s expression turned from one of revulsion to empathy and compassion for the undead mage. She couldn’t imagine the torment he had felt. Her eyes began to water as he spoke.

 

“But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was the voice in my head, commanding me, ordering me to obey. And I had to do it. I couldn’t not obey. Like everyone else that woke up that night, I became a part of an army of undead and we were made to do horrible, horrible things to the remaining living across the face of this land. And then, after… what was it, months? Years of war? I don’t even remember how long I was enthralled to the Scourge. After what seemed like an eternity, suddenly, I was free from the voice. I had my own will, and my own thoughts again. Many of us did, and we learned that it was a banshee, a former High Elf who had somehow broken our chains to the Lich King and his demon masters. She became our new queen and we set about trying to rebuild our lives and our fallen kingdom under the ruins of the city of Lordaeron. It’s what we now call the ‘Undercity’. Imaginative lot for a bunch of walking corpses aren’t we?”

 

Gereth smirked at his own attempt at humor, and Zelda felt the corners of her own mouth attempt to twinge and bend upwards.

 

“And then the living, those who survived the plague and those from the southern continent, attacked us. Our own people, former friends and family, set about to destroy every one of us calling us monsters and unholy as though somehow we did this to ourselves. Somewhere, some cleric decided we were no longer people. We were no longer human. You know, I had an uncle down in Stormwind before. He wasn’t a mage, but he ran a tailor’s shop. I tried to write to him once. I wanted him to know that I was somehow still alive. I never got a response back, at least not from him directly.

 

“I was angry for a long time. I felt betrayed and abandoned by everyone except those like me. I even… _contributed_ my skills to the later plague that we unleashed on Hillsbrad and Southshore to finish the job the Scourge started and add the rest of the living there to our ranks. What better way to deal with a person who wants to destroy you than make him one of you?”

 

Gereth went silent as he let his memories overtake him. “We rounded up the living into camps and began to experiment on the men, the women, and... the children.”

 

Zelda’s hand went involuntarily to her mouth in horror. And then she asked in a hoarse whisper, “What changed?”

 

Gereth continued his story, “I watched the plague take a little girl. I unleashed it on her. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old. I remember her clearly. She had beautiful blond hair, and blue eyes like my sister did. And I remember thinking about my sister, and I realized that I had become the same monster that killed my sister and my mother. The little girl never woke up either, and for that I’m actually glad. I might have cremated myself after that if she had. I left Hillsbrad and the ‘harvesting’ work after that. I went to Kalimdor and joined the greater Horde armies, and then to Outland to fight against the Burning Legion that had created the Scourge. That’s where I met my dear Shaggara here, and then I actually made it to Northrend and finally Dalaran which had become a neutral, sanctuary city where I was able to finally continue pursuing my study of arcane magic under a Sindorei master named Duazhen. I was and remain grateful to him. He didn’t care about who or what I was, only my skill and dedication to the mystic arts. And it was there, as I studied in his libraries that I ran across an old, travel stained journal of a human adventurer, a Paladin who had discovered the existence of the Golden Flame in Un’goro crater in Kalimdor. An honorable servant of the light, he wrote that he completed the task left to him by a gnome he met named ‘Linken’ who had been injured and had lost his memory somehow.”

 

Zelda’s ears perked up at the mention of the very similar name to her companion, though she said nothing and let him continue.

 

“According to the Paladin, the relic had powerful mystical properties, capable of bending reality to the will of the one who wielded it. He said it appeared as a golden, light filled triangle, no matter how you turned it, or from which angle you viewed it. Intrigued, I dug into my master’s library further and found vague references to this Golden Flame from the Kaldorei civilization that once flourished before the first and great cataclysm which sank the Well of Eternity into the maelstrom. Do you know what it was first created for? It was created from the most ancient and divine magics as a weapon against Sargeras and his demon legion! It was created as a weapon only mortals could wield, and so would be useless in the hands of a Titan! It could bend the fabric of reality in such a way as to create or recreate whole worlds, or destroy them at the mere wish of the bearer. Do you know what I could do with a relic like this?” Gereth’s voice became passionate and hopeful.

 

Zelda’s face became impassive. She knew exactly what he could do with a relic like that. Anything he desired.

 

“Don’t you see Shaggara? Zelda?” He said, looking back and forth between the two women. “I can undo the plague! I can make things right! I can make this world as though the burning legion and the Scourge had never touched it! Azeroth can be made a peaceful paradise, and I am this close to finding it!” He squeezed his thumb and forefinger together closely to demonstrate.

 

Shaggara sat quietly listening to her friend’s hopes and dreams. She glanced at Zelda’s shocked and fearful face, believing she knew what was going through her mind at that moment. She then folded her own clawed hands in front of her on the table and looked back and forth between her two friends. One she had known for many years, the other only for a few days, but she owed her life to both of them.

 

“If this relic is as powerful as you say, why didn’t the ancient Night Elves use it thousands of years ago when they first had it? They could have stopped much suffering in many worlds if they had.” Shaggara asked.

 

“It was Malfurion Stormrage, according to my research.” Gereth replied, understanding the obviousness of the question. “He had grown so distrustful of the Highborn’s magic that he took the Golden Flame and, unable to destroy it, he hid it. He sealed it away somewhere only he knew of, and that had been before the first cataclysm which shattered Kalimdor. And it remained hidden until the appearance of this gnome and the Paladin’s journal.”

 

Then Zelda spoke. Her face carefully neutral, though friendly. Her emotions were seething within her, and she felt shaky, as though her own world had been turned inside out.

 

“And you believe this relic is in Ashenvale, in the tower among the Night Elf ruins we saw?” She asked.

 

“I’m certain of it.” Gereth said with a fire in his eyes. “It’s the answer that I’ve been looking for all these years.”

 

 _I’m certain of it too._ Zelda thought to herself apprehensively.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

The wind rushed past Link’s feathered head, and currents of air whipped around the flight feathers that extended out from the tips of his wings. The majestic form he possessed as he flew north towards the human city of Stormwind was that of a giant crimson colored bird of prey with a white underbelly. The ends of his flight feathers were striped with royal purple and gold colored tips. His beak was a flaming orange, hooked and deadly. His eyesight as he scanned the skies and the ground was so sharp he could pick out the slightest movements of tiny squirrels and rabbits moving through the underbrush of the forest beneath him. His taloned, flaming orange feet were like razors. To all prey below him, his flight form appeared as a fiery death from above.

 

To his right and slightly above and behind him flew a great golden brown eagle, easily the size of a man. The eagle flew close and careful, every so often calling out with squawks and cries that somehow he understood in his bird form, “Higher!” “Lower!” And, “Use your instincts!”

 

As a method of practice, the eagle would occasionally call out for Link to dive and snare a rabbit from a meadow, or a fish from a river. Most were caught and released without harm. But a very few were not. Link had been so quick and silent that the target animal wouldn’t know what was about to happen to it up until it saw the shadow overhead as Link’s talons quickly caught and impaled it. This was how the two had eaten on their travel north, as Oliver insisted that anything they caught and killed had to be eaten or used to some purpose. Druids did not kill just for sport. The balance of nature had to be maintained.

 

The Hylian found the power of flight was as natural as breathing to him. The druidic form awakened impulses and instincts within him that had laid dormant for almost ten thousand years. It was something he had loved in a previous lifetime along with a crimson loftwing which had been his trusted companion much like Epona had in this one.

 

He remembered that town in the sky, Skyloft. It was a peaceful village mostly, populated by good, caring people. That was the first time; his first re-incarnation being born as a Hylian mortal. Most Hylians didn’t realize it, but they had all been people of the air at one time, riding high on the winds much as he did now, living in the quiet paradise that their goddess, Hylia, had created for them for their own protection. He supposed that was why they took the name “Hylian” instead of calling themselves “elves” like the others of their kind, scattered across realities and other dimensions, did. It marked them, not as a race or a species, but as followers and devotees of the goddess of light.

 

He heard a screech nearby, _Land there!_ And then the golden eagle dove through the clouds and Link followed. The white billowing mists were damp and cold as he folded in his wings and plummeted through them, breaking through the other side, chasing after his newest mentor.

 

Oliver had spent the better part of the last day teaching him to focus and connect with the natural world around him that fueled the new magics that flowed through him. Most of his instruction was devoted to Link controlling what Oliver called his “feral forms;” a mighty and powerful bear form used to protect those around him, a stealthy and quick large cat form used when stealth and precision were called for, the form of a great swift stag to cover large swaths of ground quickly, and now as they traveled north he was instructing Link in the art of flight. There was one other form used for traversing the water, but he had neither the time nor the opportunity to demonstrate this one.

 

Instruction in controlling his transformation between worgen and Hylian became a part of this as well. Oliver taught him that it could be used as a powerful form in combat when weapons, strength, agility, and speed were all needed against opponents which could otherwise overwhelm you. At first, Link was concerned Fi, the intelligence which lived in the Master Sword he carried, might not accept his newly arranged physical persona, but she recognized and accepted him regardless. This was something he was grateful for as he knew what she did to those she didn’t recognize and didn’t relish the prospect.

 

One change though had to be made to his wardrobe. He could no longer wear the protective chain mail shirt under his green tunic. As Oliver had explained, this was a limitation of the Druid’s powers because it conflicted with and obstructed the channeling of the natural forces around him. The only material a Druid could armor himself with beyond his feral forms was more animal hide which didn’t obstruct the magics. Had he been more of a scientist in his first life, his original life, he might have understood the physical reasons why, but he had always been just a soldier, a warrior protecting those he loved.

 

Link broke through the clouds and the scene below him transformed into a great white stone city overlooking a seemingly endless sea, far grander and larger than Castle Town had ever been in its entire history as a Hylian settlement. The sapphire blue roofing of its buildings, towers and parapets gleamed in the broken and dappled sunlight which fought to break through the cloud cover. Great statues of heroic figures stood at the entry way, guarding the great city’s past and future.

 

In addition to its grandeur, Link could also see with his raptor’s vision signs of a relatively recent calamity which had befallen the northeastern, sea side of the city. It looked as though a large chunk of it had been bombarded with the ocean’s full might and dragged away with the power of the tides.

 

Link followed Oliver down and into this less populated, damaged area. And while Link could sense movement among the shadows of the ruins, Oliver led him into an open area where there were no people.

 

The golden eagle dropped and then spread his wings wide just over the white paving stones of a damaged walkway that would lead deeper in the still thriving heart. Then, just before he might had touched down with taloned feet, the eagle changed quickly and with little warning. Within the blink of an eye, there stood the Gilnean man in his red leathers waiting for his “apprentice”.

 

Link followed his lead and dropped next to him. Spreading his wings out to slow and cushion his fall, he focused on his natural Hylian form and instantly began to shift, feeling the magic of nature flow through him, the living energy of life itself. He touched the ground with leather booted feet, white breeches, and green tunic. His elvish Hylian features fully apparent and prominent.

 

“Very good! You make an excellent pupil, my friend.” Oliver praised him.

 

Link smiled at the praise. He genuinely appreciated it. While the use of the forces most called magic was not new to him in all of his incarnations, it had never been his strength. And he could honestly say that he had never used it in this way before.

 

Link began to move towards the rest of the city when Oliver put his hand on the Hylian’s chest holding him back.

 

“Wait a moment, Link.” Oliver told him.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

 

Oliver let out a resigned sigh. “It may seem somewhat counter-intuitive, but here, in this city, it might be better for you and I if we entered as worgen, and not our true selves. While I know you are not a Blood Elf, no one here will make that distinction except perhaps for the good marshall and your priest friend. It has been a long time since the Sindorei and the humans of Stormwind have been allies. There has been an overabundance of suspicion and bad feelings on both sides, and Blood Elves are not truly welcome here anymore. As worgen, however, the people here have become so accustomed to my people changing forms that no one will turn their heads.”

 

Link remembered his first welcome at the abbey in Northshire and understood Oliver’s point. The Druid had made him practice shifting forms so much in the Twilight Grove that it now came almost effortlessly and without pain as his face elongated and gray white fur sprouted once again all over his body, his teeth sharpening into lupine fangs, though he retained his upright stance and gait.

 

And so it was as two large and powerful worgen that the two Druids, human and elven, a master and an apprentice made their way from the ruins into the functional part of the capital city of the last remaining human kingdom.

 

The sounds and smells of the human city were at once nearly overpowering to the newly born worgen. Try as he might, Link could not escape the stench of human waste which emanated from the sewers and even from the canals of water which ran throughout the city, dividing it into districts. The smells of a cornucopia of different kinds of food wafted at him from every direction, including savory roasted meats which made his lupine mouth salivate to the point he almost couldn’t control it. Then there were perfumes and the smells of different kinds of herbs, and the stenches of much fouler things wafting from the southwestern district, which oddly enough had royal purple roofing tiles instead of the nearly uniform blue in the rest of the city.

 

With his enhanced hearing, the sounds of children playing nearby filled his ears. A teacher off to the east was leading her class through the city’s streets and alleyways. He could hear the lesson being taught about the city’s history. Somewhere in front of him, a man was yelling at his wife for not being a good enough wife, something which made the hero’s blood rage within him. Off to the southeast, he could hear the clash of steel and orders being barked to do it again, the tell tale sounds of training for war. These were accompanied by the unfamiliar sound of small explosions, like small cannons being fired, with another man shouting, “reload!”

 

Oliver seemed unperturbed by any of it; while Link thought the sensory overload of the city might drive him mad his mentor continued walking calmly with his wolfish gait through the streets of the city. Link just barely managed to be able to focus and continue following the Druid for some time along the canals and across bridges and into what seemed to be the city’s beating heart. What Oliver had called, “The Trade District”.

 

They passed by random folks, just out doing their shopping, or strolling by the canals, and Link saw the truth of what Oliver had said. While he sensed a few looking at the two worgen out of the corners of their eyes, no one stopped them or seemed frightened of them. As Link thought back through his deep memories, he remembered creatures similar to his worgen form now that had inhabited the Lost Woods, the region of the Faron Woods forest which was enchanted by powerful magics and sacred to the divinity who was, in fact, his true mother. They had appeared as mindless animals and monsters at the time. He was certain that, had one of them attempted to stroll casually though castle town, there would have been more than a few panicked people.

 

Then as they turned through the archway and into the Trade District, Link saw another worgen dressed in a pair of dark gray slacks, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and a waist coast matching his slacks. His fur was an obsidian black color which came to a kind of goatee off the chin of his lower jaw. He wore a brimmed cloth hat and appeared to be looking at a shiny metallic pocket watch attached to a chain which was clipped to his waistcoat. He looked up from his watch, and Link saw a pair of deep violet eyes which spoke of a cunning and intelligence that no beast or monster could possess. They eyes held a sadness and a resignation born of things he wished he could change, but could not.

 

The other worgen nodded and tipped his hat to them as the passed by, “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He greeted them in a deep raspy voice. “A fine day for a stroll.”

 

Oliver nodded and smiled with his fangs exposed, “Indeed it is, Harold. Just taking my new apprentice to the Gilded Rose.”

 

“Apprentice? Getting back into teaching, are you Ollie?” Harold sniffed the air around Link, and a sour look came over his face. “He isn’t Gilnean, Oliver.” He sniffed again, “He isn’t even human under the fur. Who, or more likely what have you brought into the pack?” Then, lowering his voice he said with a growl, “He smells elvish.”

 

“His conversion wasn’t my doing. You know I don’t engage in that sort of thing even with other humans. I only taught him how to control it. Ysera’s gift did the rest.” Oliver replied defensively.

 

Harold smelled again, “He’s no Night Elf, Ollie. Why did you bring him here? You know what they’ll do to him once they find out what he is, don’t you?” Harold said in a lowered, whispered voice.

 

“Are they going to find out, Harold?” Oliver asked, concerned.

 

The other worgen shook his jet black head and said, “Not from me. I don’t betray our own, no matter what they used to be. But not everyone looks out for the best interests of our pack. Be careful,” and then looking at Link, his expression stern but not unkind, he said, “both of you, brothers.”

 

“We will, and thank you,” Oliver returned, and he and Link continued on.

 

“Who was that?” Link asked as they rounded a corner to a main street which ran between rows of housing and shops.

 

“Harold is an old and dear friend of mine from when we were children in Gilneas City.” Oliver explained. “Here, he runs a curio shop for, shall we say, more exotic items and customers. There is a small population of us here in Stormwind, and he’s a kind of community leader for them, keeping them all together. Family, ‘the pack’ as he calls it, is extremely important to him, whether we’re united by ties of blood or our national origins.”

 

They continued down the street until the large and imposing columned white face of a building with grand steps came into view. Not far before they came to the temple like structure, Oliver pointed to a wooden sign hanging from an otherwise unextraordinary row building. The sign held no words, but the gold leafed carving of a single rose shone next to a carving of a full mug of ale in the waning light of the late afternoon.

 

“Ah, we’re here. The Gilded Rose. Hopefully, your friends will be waiting inside.”

 

Without ceremony, Oliver led Link’s wolfish form through an open doorway and into the smaller common room of a traveler’s inn. There was a single wooden table, with a few sturdy chairs around it. Other chairs were placed closer to the front window and around a bear skin rug. Several book cases lines each wall. A vase of fresh flowers and other sparse but comfortable furnishings decorated the common room. It was simple, yet felt homey and well cared for.

 

“Allison?” Oliver asked, raising his deep raspy worgen’s voice a little to make himself heard, though there was no one in the common room at the moment to drown him out.

 

Soon, a human woman in her prime with shoulder length hair appeared from a side room. She wore a plain dress with an apron bearing the stains of recent use. Link couldn’t tell what colors the dress was or even her hair color because of his wolfish, many shades of gray eyesight. She was an attractive woman in a simple and clean way, the kind one might find during regular worship in a cathedral or temple.

 

“Yes?” She said as she came into the side room. She had her head down and was busy tying her hair up and out of her way as though she was about to engage in more work. When it was sufficiently pinned, she then looked up at her two new guests, seeing their larger than human forms for the first time.

 

Upon first look, she took a step back, her eyes searching them, and then her face broke into a genuine smile. “Oliver! I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s so rare I see you like this, why the fur?”

 

“It’s good to see you, my dear. The fur and fangs are a necessity today.” Oliver responded. “I’m training a new apprentice.” He gestured to Link.

 

“I see! Welcome!” Allison responded, smiling at the gray and white worgen wearing the green tunic and matching long cap. “Well, what brings you to my humble inn today?”

 

“We’re here to meet two other gentlemen. Perhaps they’re already here? A marshal of Stormwind and a priest of the Holy Light.” Oliver explained.

 

“Oh, yes. Marshall McBride and Brother Garen. They took a room upstairs two days ago. Very nice men. I was just about to start on supper for them. Are you going to join them?” Allison asked. “I’d like to know so I know how many to expect. I don’t have any other guests right now, so it would be just you and they.”

 

“We’d be delighted, my dear.” Oliver responded genially. “If you don’t mind, we’ll just head upstairs and join our friends.”

 

“Of course, although I think the good marshal stepped out for a bit.” Allison told him. She then turned to return to her side room. As she left, she said, “Make yourselves at home. Let me know if you need anything.”

 

Oliver then motioned for Link to follow him up a wooden staircase. Its railing was worn smooth and polished from use, as were the steps.

 

The stairs rounded a corner, and the two worgen continued up the next flight to a second story, where there were two separate closed wooden doors leading into the guest rooms of the modest inn.

 

Oliver then chose to turn to Link instead of taking the lead.

 

“Which one do you think Brother Garen is in?” He asked him, taking a more instructive tone. “What do your senses tell you?”

 

Link smelled the air, and listened. It was quiet, and there was no breeze or draft coming from either closed door. And then he heard a slight cough, almost imperceptible through the heavy wooden door to the right. There was the shuffle of a slippered foot as well, like the slippers Brother Garen had worn. The worgen moved to tap his claws on the wooden door politely, still not used to the large fingers and furry knuckles of his newer body.

 

“Yes, come!” Came Brother Garen’s slightly muffled voice.

 

“Well done.” Oliver told him and then gestured for Link to turn the handle to the door.

 

Link carefully turned the door handle so as not to break it with the strength of his worgen muscles. The solid wooden door creaked open to reveal a small room with a single modest, but clean and kept bed. To one side, at a rough hewn wooden desk sat Brother Garen. A candle had been lit to supplement the waning sunlight coming into the room through the window at the head of the bed. In front of him on the desk was a worn, leatherbound volume with vellum pages covered in carefully printed writing. He looked up from his book to greet his new and expected visitors.

 

“Ah!” He said in surprise, standing up from his desk and nearly knocking his chair over backwards in so doing. “My friends! It’s so good to see the both of you.” He said, looking back and forth between the two worgen with some trepidation, though it was clear that he knew who they were.

 

Seeing the good priest’s face, Link chose to shift back to his Hylian form.

 

“It’s me, Garen.” He said.

 

“Well of course it is.” Garen responded, though he seemed much relieved to see Link’s elvish features whole and healthy once more. “I had been expecting the change, though I must admit that even then...”

 

Oliver then chose to join Link in assuming his human form as well as he carefully closed the door to the room behind them. “I told you I would return him safely.” He said as he did so.

 

“Yes, of course.” Garen responded. “Forgive me, I am not as well experienced with the world as I should be at my age. If nothing else, this sojourn from the abbey has taught me this.” He said apologetically. “I should not be as… as nervous around you or your people as I am, Master Druid. My life has been far too sheltered.”

 

“There’s no need to apologize, Brother. I would have expected no less after the attack in the farmhouse. The wrong encounter with a worgen can be a terrifying experience.” Oliver said, stepping forward and putting a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “We all have our struggles and strengths in this life. And often our strengths are born from our struggles. Without them, we would not grow and learn to be better people.”

 

“Truer words have seldom been spoken, my friend, and thank you.” Garen replied.

 

Just then, the door to the room opened once more. A bald but virile man stepped into the room. He wore brown woolen trousers, a fine black shirt, and a soft, blue leather coat. Without his full plate armor, Link almost didn’t recognize him.

 

“Marshal!” Link greeted him.

 

“Ah, my elven friend! It’s good to see you up and around again, and you appear to be yourself!” Marshal McBride responded with a genuine smile, clasping Link’s arm in a warrior’s greeting.

 

“Mostly.” Link responded with a smile, “And maybe a little more now. Oliver has been teaching me how to use my new ‘situation’ as an advantage.”

 

McBride studied his friend. Link could not read his facial expression as he did so, but then the soldier nodded approvingly.

 

“Are you strong enough to continue your quest?” McBride asked.

 

Link nodded once in response. The truth was, he felt stronger now than he had ever been in this life.

 

“Good. I’ve just returned from the Pig and Whistle over in Old Town. I called in a favor from an old comrade of mine from the Northrend campaigns some years ago. It turns out he knew a ship’s captain willing to take us as passengers to Theramore in Kalimdor. What’s more, I learned that Jaina Proudmoore, the Lady ruler of Theramore still maintains ties with Ratchet and to some extant Orgrimmar. It’s possible to hire gryphons to fly to the goblin towns there, but after that we’re on our own.” McBride explained.

 

“When does this captain leave for Theramore?” Link asked.

 

“Tonight after midnight, he sails with the tide from the city’s central dock.” McBride told him. “After that, it’s a week to Theramore across the great sea and around the Maelstrom at its heart.”

 

“A week?” Link asked, his heart beginning to fall again. “Is it really so long?”

 

“Kalimdor’s on the other side of the world, my friend, and Azeroth is a big world. Right now it’s the best offer we’re going to get as none of the mages I inquired with here in Stormwind would help.” McBride responded. “None would agree to transport us there because of the damned treaty. One mage told me that they need a certain kind of enchanted stone in order to open a portal, and that by treaty, none of those sold in Stormwind will open portals to Horde lands, not even on the black market, and Stormwind Keep controls those that can send men to Theramore directly for official business. Not even I can obtain one without a royal seal, regardless of my rank.” He then snorted, “As if the Horde would so restrain themselves if the fancy took them to send a few hundred warriors here. No, the closest we could come is Darnassus in Teldrassil, the Night Elf capital far to the northwest of Kalimdor, and then it could take a week or longer overland to travel back towards the west coast of the continent. Getting to Booty Bay in the south has already presented too many problems. I believe the quickest route for us now is through Theramore.”

 

After several minutes thought, Link then nodded. He had to find her. He had to be by her side and protect her. It was the sole reason for his mortal existence, he knew. “We leave tonight then.” He agreed.

 

* * *

 

Zelda and Shaggara found themselves in the late morning looking through the various shops and vendors Silvermoon City had to offer. Zelda had been wearing the same top and riding breaches that she had worn when Shaggara had found her in her swine pen for several days. While the princess had never once complained about the soiled clothing, after their breakfast, Gereth had given her a small but weighty bag filled with gold coins and insisted that the warrior orc woman not return with the Hylian until she was wearing something more suitable. Zelda attempted to protest, but her words fell on ears that were not only dead, but willfully deaf as well.

 

They made their way around the district of the city known as the bazaar until they came to a small tailor’s shop on the north side. There, the shopkeeper, a master tailor by the ironic name of Keelen Sheets, immediately agreed with the undead mage’s ultimatum.

 

He was a tall, light skinned, athleticly built elf with flowing reddish brown hair. He wore a royal purple vest over a bare chest, and matching trousers with brown cloth boots. Upon seeing the women enter his shop, he quickly appraised the state of Zelda’s clothing, still stained from her initial entry into this world.

 

The tailor then disappeared into the back of his shop. Minutes later, he was attempting to dress her in a crimson top with metallic gold highlights which only, just barely, covered her chest and a flowing crimson and gold skirt with matching sandals. The princess looked horrified when he showed it to her.

 

“She needs something practical, meant for travel. Something in which she can ride an animal and not have it and her rump ruined within seconds.” Shaggara insisted.

 

“Really? Oh, my dear that’s dreadful that she would make someone as exquisitely regal as yourself travel in anything less than a carriage.” The tailor responded effeminately. “For shame!”

 

Zelda blinked several times, the tailor’s comments not registering. Then, she said, “Yes, please. I would appreciate more practical wear.”

 

Disappointed, the tailor glumly put the revealing dress back, and then began talking to himself. He then returned with several hangers with what looked like trousers and blouses of a rich, almost glowing material.

 

“Just because you need function over form doesn’t mean you can’t look fabulous.” Keenen chided girlishly as he showed his pieces to her. “These are made from Pandaren windwool. You won’t find a stronger material anywhere in Azeroth.”

 

He held up a pair of trousers that already seemed perfectly cut to Zelda’s size. They were a jade green with golden dragon designs that seemed to be swimming across the fabric as it was moved. He handed them to her.

 

“Here, feel this.” He encouraged, and she did. The material was as soft as rabbit’s fur and felt luxurious across her skin.

 

“Wonderful, isn’t it? You would never believe that anything less than ghost iron would only dull against this material. It’s that strong, ladies. I have to cut the fabric with shears made from a special trillium alloy imported from Pandaria.” The tailor told them. “I would pit this against mithril or thorium chain mail any day, though it won’t stand up as well to ghost iron, so keep that in mind if you plan on traveling to the far southern continent any time soon.”

 

He then held up the blouse which, though sleeveless, was cut higher and much more modest than his previous effort, and was a beautiful golden color with jade colored lotus blossom designs. It flowed just down past the waistline, and was obviously meant to be accessorized with a belt. Zelda instantly took to it.

 

“I studied with a Pandaren tailor from the Jade Forest for weeks to learn their secrets, but even if I must say it myself, I learned it well.” The tailor said, smiling as he admired his own handiwork.

 

“How much?” Shaggara asked.

 

“Honey, this isn’t a cheap silk as I’m sure you know.” The tailor told her. “And I don’t haggle like goblins. Since this was _clearly_ a fashion emergency, I’ll take the high road and give it to her for cost. I’ll even throw in matching travel boots, gloves and a belt. Thirty gold pieces. That will allow me to order new bolts of fabric with my supplier later today.”

 

Shaggara looked him in the eye, but for all the elf’s flamboyance, she saw only sincerity and pride in his work. “Done.” She said, and counted out the money. Amazingly, it didn’t lighten the coin purse Gereth had supplied her with much.

 

“I am ever at your disposal, ladies.” The tailor said as he showed Zelda to a dressing room in his shop.

 

A few minutes later, Zelda stepped out of the changing room with her old clothes in her hands. The new clothes felt light and airy, almost as if she was wearing hardly anything at all. The belt she wore matched the outfit perfectly and contained several pouches expertly and cleverly woven into it so as to be discreet but accessible.

 

“I can barely feel any of it against my skin, but it’s gorgeous!” She exclaimed. “And it’s so perfectly cut for me. How did you do that? You didn’t even take my measurements.”

 

“Taking measurements?” Keenen asked as though confused. “Why would I do that when the cloth is enchanted to mold itself to the wearer upon the first dressing? Please, darling. It’s not like we’re barbarians here.” He said rather haughtily.

 

“Magic.” Zelda whispered, surprised and a little uncertain.

 

“Of course. Really my dear, where did your parents raise you? Darnassus?” He laughed at his own joke at her expense. He then took the old, soiled clothes in her hands from her intending to simply toss them out.

 

As he looked at the silver and pink top, his eye fell to the winged triangle crest which graced it, and he became intrigued.

 

“What an interesting design.” He said. “I simply must know; what is it, and what does it mean?”

 

Still pondering the uneasy feeling she had, she said without thought, “It’s my family’s crest.”

 

“Is it now?” The tailor replied thoughtfully. “And which family did you say you were from, darling?”

 

“She is not from Silvermoon City.” Shaggara said, quickly trying to contain the tailor’s interest.

 

“Well, that much is certain.” He continued to stare at the crest pensively. “I could have told you that myself. I’m just trying to place the family name with the crest.” He explained. “You see, I am the personal tailor of all the noble families of the Sindorei. I can already tell that, personal taste notwithstanding, this blouse is of fine make, though I don’t recognize the cloth either. That in and of itself should be impossible. I have not achieved my reputation as _the_ master tailor in all of Silvermoon without commiting to memory the properties of every conceivable cloth, thread, and pattern that exists in this world. But I also know from memory the personal heraldry of every noble family, major and minor, that survived the destruction of Quel’thalas. They all eventually come to see me. And, I have to say, I am at a loss as to this one, as stylish as it may be.”

 

“She is not from Eversong.” Shaggara said, trying to end the conversation discreetly. “We are still trying to arrange to send her home to her family.”

 

Keelen continued to stare at the cloth, and then he looked at Zelda. It wasn’t a casual glance, or a passing look to inspect some trivial feature. Rather he appeared to really _look_ at her, deeply as though he was trying to place her face. He studied the details of her young, regal feminine features. There has a always been a certain nobility in the features of all elven men and women, but as the tailor studied her, he looked deeply into her eyes and saw something more. His gaze was piercing, penetrating until…

 

He looked away quickly with a barely contained, muffled cry. “Ah!” He turned away from her, and could only say, “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry, please forgive me...” He whimpered. “I… I’ll dispose of these old rags at once… No one will know...” He continued to whisper and whimper like this for several minutes as he stuffed Zelda’s soiled clothes into a metal container. He pointed at the container with his hand, and with a quick word, the clothes erupted into flames and were destroyed in seconds.

 

Shaggara drew close enough to Zelda to whisper into her ear, “What did you do to him?”

 

“I didn’t do anything.” Zelda whispered back. “He just stared into my eyes, and then started doing this.”

 

“What about your hand?” Shaggara asked, “You know which one.” She clarified.

 

Zelda hadn’t noticed before, there had been no sensation this time, but as she looked at the back of her newly gloved hand, she could see the faintly glowing outline of the mark growing fainter by the second.

 

Keelen came back, all traces of his former pretense and pride had been wiped away from his expression. “Please, Lady, I will tell no one. I swear it.” He said, fear gripping his eyes.

 

Zelda nodded in confusion, and then said, “Thank you for the clothes, master tailor. We need to go now.”

 

“Of course, Lady, anything for you. Anything and it’s yours.” The tailor told her.

 

Zelda and Shaggara made their way to the shop’s entry. As they were about to cross the threshold, she looked back at the strange elven man with concern. She saw him sitting on a stool seemingly staring off into space. Her sharp ears caught the whisper of a word repeated over and over again, “...eternity...”

 

After they came out onto the street, Shaggara took Zelda by the arm and led her by the fastest route back to the Silvermoon City Inn.

 

“We cannot wait any longer. We must have Gereth return you to your world as soon as it is possible.” Shaggara told her. “It is no longer safe… for anyone.”

 

Zelda couldn’t argue. She could only ponder the poor tailor, and the last word she heard him speak, “eternity.”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 

It was difficult for Zelda to read Gereth’s normally expressive face that afternoon. While his features seemed permanently frozen in an early state of decomposition, since she had met him, he usually seemed like he wore his emotions and moods out for everyone to see. It was one of the qualities about Shaggara’s unusual friend that made him so endearing in spite of his deathly condition. But after she and Shaggara had returned from the tailor’s shop and explained to him why they were seeking him in the first place, the open book that he had been before seemed to close and she couldn’t tell anything about what he was feeling or thinking.

 

The two women had to remove Gereth from the Silvermoon City Inn in order to speak privately with him. Like the other inns and hostels Zelda had encountered upon her short sojourn in Shaggara’s and Gereth’s world, the Sindorei Inn had no private rooms for guests. All the sleeping furnishings, as comfortable and even decadent as they may have been, were in large common rooms upstairs from the bar and dining table. It made for a poor place to discuss anything discreetly, and Shaggara insisted they talk about it where no prying ears could overhear.

 

Seeing the intensity of her insistence, Gereth quietly led the two women out the back entry onto a darkened alley street that felt decidedly less bright and cheerful than the Bazaar or the Royal exchange. They passed by a younger Sindorei woman asleep against the wall of the Inn, bluish empty bottles of a sweet smelling liquor lay haphazardly next to her. Without a word about it, Gereth turned left out of the inn and stopped in front of a closed door near them. Motioning them to follow, he passed his hand wordlessly over the door’s handle and Zelda could hear a mechanism unlatch as Gereth then turned the handle and drew them into the darkness inside.

 

With a casual word from the mage, candles around the small chamber they found themselves in burst into small flames which provided a good degree of light for their eyes as Gereth closed the door again, looking back through the door before he shut it to ensure that no one had followed them before he closed and latched the door.

 

Inside the room was a minimal amount of furniture. An ebony desk with a few books stacked on it, as well as several instruments used in the Alchemical profession, Zelda knew; a wooden chair at the desk as well as a larger leather backed chair which looked comfortable to sit in, and a short bed with a mattress and dressed in Sindorei fashion. On the wall was a bookcase filled with leatherbound volumes, many of them appearing quite old and fragile.

 

“This is my own private apartment.” Gereth explained. “I rent it from Velandra for my stays in Silvermoon for research or leisure. I placed enchantments on the walls and doors. No one will hear anything which could be said.”

 

“Shaggara believed you kept private rooms in the Undercity and Orgrimmar.” Shaggara said.

 

“I did, once upon a time, but I’ve grown to not like the attitudes of my Forsaken brothers and sisters.” Gereth explained. “And the atmosphere of Orgrimmar has become far too… er, militant for my liking. I still keep a small room there as well for my sojourns in Kalimdor, but leisure isn’t a consideration there, I’m afraid. And Silvermoon has the largest gathering of mages and magical works outside of Dalaran. So, please, sit down and tell me what is so important.”

 

Zelda and Shaggara then explained what led them to try and find him in the first place, though she said nothing of the Legend or the Triforce.

 

He was silent and motionless for some time as he stood listening to Zelda’s plight, his gloved hands folded in thought in front of him. He had closed his eyes as he listened, and they remained closed.

 

When he finally did open them again, his expression was serious, the normal humor Zelda had come to expect couldn’t be read upon his face. It frightened her just a little.

 

Wordlessly, he went to a bookshelf and pulled a large volume from it, bringing it over to the desk and opening it up, laying the book down flat. Inside, the book’s pages were covered with maps and pictures of different lands and places. He carefully went through its pages, checking lists of words that Zelda could not read.

 

“What is it?” Shaggara asked.

 

Gereth did not respond, but seemed absorbed in the lists of words and pictures in the book. And then, suddenly he closed the book, leaving it on his desk. What sounded like a profanity came in a whisper from his direction.

 

“No one but a master mage of great power can drag someone through time and space like that...” He whispered concernedly, more to himself than the other two in the room.

 

When he finally turned in the direction of the women again and met their eyes with his own, he said, “It is as I thought. Hyrule is an unknown land to us. It is not mentioned in any list of places for this world, Outland, or the other worlds my order makes knowledge of to us.”

 

“So, you believe me?” Zelda asked.

 

“Oh, of course I believe you, my dear… uh, your highness.” He corrected himself somewhat clumsily. “You may appear as one of Eversong’s own to the untrained eye, but it doesn’t take long before someone who knows the Blood Elves will figure out that you’re not one of them. You’re too… how do I say this? You’re too nice to be a Blood Elf. While your bearing is noble, you don’t have the same pride of race or haughtiness they do. Even the kindest of them, such as my landlady Velandra, keeps an air of disdain for all other races.”

 

Shaggara nodded her agreement, but then her own face expressed concern at the news he gave. “You cannot send her home?” She asked him.

 

Gereth went to his bookshelf and began pulling out seemingly random books. He spoke as he did so, checking the spines and contents of each book. “I’ve studied portal magic for some time, my dear. My master Duazhen took it to an art form more than a science, and he taught me everything he knew of it. Our world is but one of many worlds in many dimensions of many realities. According to my research, ancient mages in the distant and legendary past were able to connect portals to worlds that only existed in their imaginations by describing them in special books because whatever world can exist does exist somewhere, and in some reality. In order to open a portal, I need to somehow be able to see where in space the other end of the portal will be connected, even if only in my own mind. I would need to be able to visualize this world that our dear princess comes from to be able to describe it in some way to the magic. And it becomes even more complicated than that when crossing dimensions or realities. Time doesn’t always flow at the same rate for every reality. The multiverse, as those in our order tend to call it now, is a strange and mysterious thing.”

 

“So, I’m trapped here?” Zelda asked.

 

“For the moment.” Gereth responded as he continued to search for something among his books. “But if I’ve learned anything in my undeath, it’s that everything changes from moment to moment.”

 

“What are you looking for?” Shaggara asked, taking note of the intensity of his search.

 

“Hyrule.” Gereth replied somewhat distractedly. “Somewhere in the back of my mind, the name of her world rings familiar but I cannot remember where I saw or heard it before. I believe it was in a book, an older volume. I was hoping one of my books here had the reference, but I don’t see it.”

 

“What about finding my bodyguard? The young man who had been with me. Is there any way to discern if he came into this world with me?” Zelda asked.

 

Gereth still didn’t look up from the book in his hand or turn around when he replied, “Yes, that’s very possible. Do you have anything of his? Anything he recently touched or that might have belonged to him at one point? The magic works best if it’s something that was dear or important to him.”

 

Zelda’s fingertips came up to her mouth, and then she looked down to her new windwool belt with the pouches to which she recently transferred the small number of affects she had brought with her into Azeroth. She fingered the small, imperceptible bulges in the belt until she found the one she was looking for and dug into it.

 

“It’s just a small thing. He made it from a loose piece of Deku wood he found on the ground when he escorted me through Faron province to Ordon on an official visit. He seemed to relax a little then when he was carving it. He talked about the village he had grown up in.” She said, retrieving a something small from her belt, small enough to be enclosed in her own slender hand easily.

 

She extended her closed hand to the undead mage and turned it over opening it to reveal her palm and what it contained. In the center of her palm was the delicately carved, dark colored small wooden figurine of a horse with a saddle inscribed with small triangle markings.

 

“He knew I liked horses.” She explained.

 

Gereth looked up from the book he had in his hand to see the figurine. He closed the book and replaced it somewhat clumsily on the shelf as he studied the tiny horse. “Yes...” He whispered. “Yes, that will do nicely. Something fashioned by him should work very well.”

 

Gereth took the figurine from her hand and held it up to his milky eyes with some wonder. He then closed his eyes and passed his other hand over it, murmuring a few simple words in a tongue Zelda didn’t know. The figurine glowed slightly and then the glow was gone.

 

Gereth opened his eyes and looked at Zelda. “He’s here... in Azeroth.” He pronounced. Then he paused as if to catch his breath, as though he had been winded from something extraordinary. He then continued. “South of us, far to the south.” Gereth’s expression then became very serious. “This isn’t good. I see the emerald green of Elwyn Forest, and the blue tiled rooftops of Stormwind City. Sindorei haven’t been welcome in the human kingdom’s capital for many years. But he’s alive, that much I can tell. His connection to this piece is strong. It meant something to him and...” He paused, and then smiled, “So do you, my dear. More than you might realize.”

 

Zelda’s cheeks blushed at Gereth’s comment. “How can you tell all that?” She asked.

 

“The locator spell is a simple thing actually. Everything a person touches is irrevocably marked by their living essence. That essence continues to have a connection to them even after there is no longer any physical contact. It forms a kind of entanglement with the thing. The spell simply traces the lines of that connection, however tenuous, back to their source. His is a strong, warrior spirit, and a courageous one. The spirit of a hero. That is not hard to read. The imprint of his feelings for you is an integral part of his living essence. Those feelings are so powerfully imprinted on this tiny piece of wood that I could use them alone to find him.”

 

“Oh.” She replied, thoughtful, her gaze drifting downward as she sorted through her own feelings.

 

Gereth then studied the piece of wood again, his eye being drawn back to the little triangles. “Where did he learn this symbol?” He asked.

 

Zelda looked up at Gereth and to the figurine as Gereth handed it back to her. She then saw to which symbol he was referring. She was silent, not certain as to how much to say.

 

Gereth looked at her expectantly, and then a look of understanding came over his face. He looked down and away from her gaze, his own expression somewhat hurt.

 

“I hope by now, you know that you can trust me, your highness. If I had wanted to take your secrets, I could have quite easily. A truth spell or potion is easy enough to mix and administer into one’s food or drink.” He said. “I only ask about this symbol because I have seen it before in the Paladin’s journal. It is a drawing he made; a representation of the Golden Flame.”

 

“ _I_ am sorry, Gereth.” Shaggara spoke up, discomfort and blame for herself in her voice. “There is much we, _I,_ have not told you that we should have.”

 

Gereth’s head then came up sharply at the orc woman’s sudden statement. He then nodded slowly. “And _I_ believe you, my dear Shaggara, though there was no need for you to reclaim your ego. I would have believed your mere word. You know that.”

 

“Shaggara knows, my brother in spirit.” She told him.

 

“Forgive me as well,” Zelda said, her voice contrite and ashamed. “In my world, the existence of the divine power is known only to a very few who guard it with their lives. I am not used to speaking of it except as a story for children, and only a select few at that.”

 

“Divine power?” Gereth asked in surprise and with some excitement. “You mean the Golden Flame? It exists in your world? I mean, there is a Golden Flame in your world as well? You already know of it?”

 

Zelda then took off the glove which covered her right hand and she held it up, the back of her hand facing the mage. Faint outlines of a golden energy traced themselves around the light, feminine skin forming a pattern of three triangles connected into one.

 

“We call it the ‘Triforce’.” She told him.

 

Just then a single triangle in the bottom corner glowed solid for a brief instant, and then it was gone.

 

“I am the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom,” she told him, “just as my ancestors before me.”

 

Gereth looked at her as with new eyes. A kind of reverent awe took him as he gazed at her. He then asked, “Then, you have the power, yes? You can undo what has been done to me? What has been done to all of my people, and the people of Quel’thalas? You can heal this land with a single wish? Oh, I wish you would have told me sooner!”

 

His milky white eyes seemed filled with desperate hope as he gazed at her.

 

“You don’t know how deeply I wish I could.” Zelda said, her heart aching for the Forsaken mage. Her eyes began to water, and emotion began to crack her voice.

 

“But I only hold one part of the Triforce, and I have no control over even that. Long ago, an evil king sought to take the whole Triforce for himself, Power, Wisdom, and Courage.” She tapped each triangle on her hand as she named them. “But the whole Triforce will not submit to one for whom these virtues are out of balance. The evil king sought power above all else, and the Triforce broke apart into its three components. My ancestor and the Hero were present when it happened, and the divine power went to its chosen bearers. Our family lines have born it ever since. There are times when it seems to act of its own choosing, but I have not learned to master it yet. The only person who knew its secrets, died when I was born. That was my mother, the Zelda before me. I had never heard of another Triforce existing in any other world before now.”

 

A tear fell from her eye and down her pale cheek as she said, “I carry the divine power of wisdom, and here I am, one of the most foolish girls I know. I can’t even recognize who to trust with its secret.”

 

Gereth’s face fell as she talked. He then nodded, and an expression of acceptance graced it. “I understand. Thank you, your highness, for at least trusting me with this now.”

 

Then, thinking further, he said gently, “This at least proves that the existence of the Golden Flame is no mere legend. As I told you, I have no ability to send you home as of yet. By treaty, I cannot open a portal to human lands to rescue your friend. Even if I wanted to, there are no portal stones I could acquire here or in Dalaran to do it. The Kirin Tor monitors their creation very carefully. But, and I ask you this trusting you as well, if you come with me back to Forest Song, and help me enter the tower... If we can acquire the Golden Flame, Azeroth’s ‘Triforce’ as you call it, then perhaps we can both use it; myself to heal our lands and people, and you to save your friend and return home.”

 

He then looked her straight in the eyes with his own milky white dead ones. His expression sincere and penetrating. “Will you help me, princess, to restore my world?”

 

Zelda looked at the back of her own hand. The mark gave no response. The Triforce of Wisdom was silent. She had to make her own choices. In her heart, though, she knew she could only give one response.

 

“I will help you.” She said resolutely.

 

And then a still small feeling, not a voice, but a part of her buried deep within her in the deepest parts of herself awakened. She felt it grow within her, though to what end she didn’t know. There was a sensation in her hand as though a slight electric current passed through it.

 

“As will I, my friend.” Shaggara spoke up. “My axe is yours.”

 

Gereth nodded. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

 

* * *

 

Ganondorf watched the upstart mage, and listened, as he hung in his restraints. The Gerudo king had not slept since his last awakening. It did not matter. The light in the chamber never varied, and there were no windows to the outside to tell him when it was day or when it was night.

 

The mage, Duazhen, had wondered in and out of his laboratory, continuing to study the Triforce. From time to time, Ganondorf saw him summon minions of flame, or of magical energies to carry out tasks for him. He surmised that the longer periods he was gone must have been times for the magic user to sleep.

 

He had learned from listening and watching that the mage was of a race called “Sindorei”, and that he was not Hylian at all. Further, Ganondorf discovered that he was no longer even in the same world, but that it was some realm called “Azeroth”. The Gerudo king knew other worlds and realms existed from his own studies into the arcane arts, though he had never heard of this one before.

 

One thing he had come to appreciate, as annoying as it might have been at first, was that the Sindorei mage liked to talk. And he seemed to have no concern what Ganondorf learned when he did so. This told Ganondorf that either the mage intended to end him when it suited him, or he really was foolish enough to think the Gerudo king no threat to him, at least while he was in restraints.

 

The more the man talked, the more Ganondorf believed it to be the latter. _Good_. He thought to himself. _I can work with that_.

 

“This would really go a lot faster for both of us if you would simply cooperate.” Duazhen told him, coming to stand before him. “I could have you sent back to where you came from by tonight if you were so inclined, and we would both have what we want.”

 

 _I most certainly will._ Ganondorf mused to himself.

 

“It chooses its bearer. It won’t respond to just anyone.” Ganondorf told him out loud, finally breaking his silence. It was the truth after all.

 

“Does it now?” Duazhen looked at the triangle in the palm of his hand, mesmerized by it. “So just being in possession of it does nothing, it has to choose its user? How interesting. And it chose a brutish orc like you? Fascinating.”

 

Ganondorf looked at the man, though didn’t answer.

 

Duazhen returned his gaze thoughtfully. He then said after several moments, “And then would you be willing to conduct a little experiment for me; a demonstration if you will.” Not waiting for his prisoner to respond he continued, “On the table is a candle. It will only light under the heat of something approximating a dragon’s flame. I would like you to use this relic to light it.”

 

Ganondorf looked with disgust at the man, “You want me to use the Triforce of Power to light a candle?!” He responded with disdain.

 

“Oh, don’t worry. I have much bigger plans should you succeed. I just want to verify your claims.” Duazhen told him.

 

“What do you need to do it?” The Sindorei asked.

 

“I need to be in contact with it. I need to touch it.” Ganondorf replied. This was also true.

 

“Alright, orcish thing,” Duazhen said with a mocking tone, “light my candle for me.”

 

The Sindorei brought the Triforce close to Ganondorf’s chest and then, continuing to hold on to it pressed it against it.

 

Immediately, a shock of energy ran from the Triforce and into Duazhen’s whole body, paralyzing him and taking control of him. A look of shock and horror came to his eyes as he realized what was happening.

 

“Now, fool, undo these restraints.” Ganondorf ordered his new puppet.

 

Uncontrollably, Duazhen moved to release his prisoner’s shackles and restraints. Stiffly, Ganondorf brought his arms down from where they had hung, and stepped away from his bindings. He then approached his unwilling servant.

 

“Now, little elf,” the Gerudo king said as he stood a head taller in front of him, “you and your world will understand what true power means.”

 

The Gerudo king then took the Triforce of Power from the Blood Elf and it dissolved into pure energy which flowed back into him. A dark, red flame danced in his eyes and a demonic presence seemed to overshadow him.

 

“I will see this world burn.” Ganondorf said, his voice growing deeper and demonic. “And you with it.”

 

Terror gripped the eyes of the blood elf mage as the orcish sorcerer in front of him grew and twisted into a nightmarish form. This was the last thing he saw before all went dark. The elf’s body burst into dark shadowy flames which fed on his flesh. In spite of the intense, unbearable pain, he could not cry out. The control the Gerudo king held over his body would not allow for it. Then Ganondorf made a gesture with his hand, opening it and stretching it towards the mage, and then closing it abruptly and tightly. The mage’s body then crumpled. His elven form lay broken and burned on the floor of the laboratory that had once been his.

 

“Still, there is no reason to waste good material.” Ganondorf then mused. He gestured towards the corpse which lay on the ground. “I desire a servant. You will do for the moment. Yes, you will do nicely.”

 

The ravaged corpse then picked itself off the ground and bowed obsequiously to its new owner. In a hollow and slurred voice, only a shadow of the original beings it asked, “Yes, my master?”

 

Tendrils of darkness then began to flow from the demonic king’s form out through the floor and the air around him, transforming and touching all in their path with an evil shadow.

 

* * *

 

It was early morning in the floating mage’s city of Dalaran. The sun had risen not long before and the sky was still aflame with orange and gold, the morning light reflecting beautifully off the buildings. Citizens and sojourners of the sanctuary city alike had just begun their daily activities, and the paved streets were just beginning to come alive.

 

They did not notice the living shadow making its way across the face of the city until it was too late.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

The salty sea sprayed up onto the deck of the _Maiden of Virtue_ as it plied through the northern waters. The sun was high overhead in a clear sky. For as far as the eye could see were the blue green waters of the Great Sea.

 

The ship was a private trading vessel operating independently, though flying the colors of Theramore, the lands under the rule of the Lady Jaina Proudmoore. It ran a regular route between Stormwind, Valiance Keep in Northrend, and Theramore, bringing trade goods back and forth between the three ports of call for those willing to pay. It sported an ice cutting prow and a mechanical means of propulsion someone told Link was a Gnome designed steam engine. This was in addition to its tall masts and grand sails.

 

The captain of the _Virtue_ was a human man by the name of Galloway. He was a tall, somewhat stern man, easily looking down on most of those aboard his ship. His build was muscular, and the hard callouses on his hands were indicative of the many years he had spent aboard ship, as was the balding head of gray hair and mustache. The smell of sea salt seemed to permanently waft from the man no matter where or what he did. He wore a long, black sailor’s trench coat and heavy woolen trousers the further north the ship had gone away from Stormwind.

 

Link stood on the deck in the form he was born in, his undershirt and tunic had been supplemented with reinforced leather chest armor purchased from a leather armor merchant in the Old Town district of Stormwind. Over this was a long dark woolen trench coat for warmth as the weather grew colder. By the third day of their voyage, nearly all those on board had added layers of clothing as they went about various tasks on board.

 

He had resumed his Hylian body shortly after the _Virtue_ left port. Once the ship was out of sight of the human captial, the first mate came out from below decks. The sailor’s huge, bovine visage and sharp bull’s horns marked him as a Tauren, one of the inhabitants of Kalimdor whose race had sided with the Horde in the conflict between the two factions. He immediately started bellowing orders in Captain Galloway’s stead in a deep, commanding voice, and the human and dwarven sailors on board scurried to complete them.

 

“Captain Galloway, are you mad? You’d trust a Tauren on board your ship?” McBride had complained to the captain when he discovered the situation.

 

“I’d trust Riverwind with my life and yours. Come to think of it, I’m doing just that right now.” Came the Captain’s sharp retort. “I don’t work for Stormwind, Marshal. My ship is my own property and I’ll run her the way I like. If you have a problem with his race, you can swim back to the docks and find yourself another ship, land-lover. He’s got nothing to do with the troubles between Orgrimmar and Stormwind, and you won’t find a better man between the two neither. As for me, I don’t care if a man’s a human, Tauren, or Blood Elf for that matter. It’s his actions that make the man. I’d think you know that from the company you keep, Marshal.” He had pointed towards the two large worgen Druids that had accompanied the soldier and the priest on board.

 

The Marshal had nothing to say in response to that, and by the second day the salty sea water had worked its way into Link’s gray and white fur. The scent of fish and salt assaulted his acute sense of smell. He became miserable and couldn’t take it anymore. He had walked out onto the wooden deck without the fur and fangs much more comfortable and suited to the wind and the surf, and none of the crew seemed to care.

 

Now Link stood at the ship’s railing, his eyes to the south. While the sun seemed to shine brightly over the ship, far to the south a dark storm seemed relentless. Flashes of lightning could be seen across the face of the billowed clouds. Link had seen many storms in his life, and his deep memories held the images of fierce magic induced storms that left nothing but chaos and destruction in their wake. The storm he now viewed far to the south felt like one of these latter.

 

Then a huge shape came up next to him at the railing, nearly blocking out the sun.

 

“She’s the Maelstrom, boy.” A deep voice told him.

 

Link looked up to find the bull headed sailor gazing off to the south where his eyes had been previously drawn. A large gold ring through his nostrils glinted in the sunlight. The Tauren had put his huge hands on the railing, and stared at the storm.

 

“Every time we pass her, I feel as though I must pay my respect. Nothing else you can do with a fiercesome lady like that.” Riverwind told him, the reverence in his voice obvious.

 

Link’s gaze returned to the storm in the south. “It’s always there?” He asked.

 

“Oh yes.” Riverwind replied. “She’s been there boiling and churning for thousands of years with no sign of stopping.”

 

“You speak of the storm as though it were a living thing, like a goddess.” Link observed.

 

“She might as well be, boy. You’ve got to respect her and keep your distance either way. If you don’t, she’ll pull you in and destroy you. I’ve known of several ship’s captains that didn’t pay her the respect she’s due. They all lie at the bottom of the Great Sea along with their ships now.” Riverwind responded.

 

“What is the Maelstrom?” Link asked, his own sense of awe building.

 

“You don’t know much of the history of the world, do you, boy? I thought Silvermoon educated their young better than that.” The Tauren said, turning his head to eye the elven looking young man.

 

Link had no answer for him, so he said nothing.

 

“Not everyone gets the privilege, I see. I suppose that’s true for most societies. We Tauren try and educate all of our young in our ways and history. Some take to it better than others, true, but we at least give them the chance.” Riverwind said, then he continued. “At one time, thousands of years ago, Kalimdor was one land instead of these little bits of land we now call continents. It stretched from the west coast of my homeland to the east coast of Lordaeron. The sea we sail across now didn’t exist.”

 

Link tried to imagine the scope of a continent like that. It would have been enormous. Almost larger than he could imagine.

 

“In the center of that land stood what the Kaldorei called the Well of Eternity. It was where people first learned about magic and how to use it. Well, as some of the Kaldorei started using it, it got the attention of a demon called Sargeras. He tried to trick them into entering this world through the Well of Eternity. A fight broke out between his followers and those who tried to stop them. In the end, the Well of Eternity exploded and most of Kalimdor ended up in the sea. The great Maelstrom out there is what’s left of the Well; all those magical energies going nuts in the center of the world. No ship dares go near it and makes port after. This is as close as we come to her ourselves. A lot of ship’s captains don’t even want to see her off their port or starboard, choosing to take the far southern route skirting Pandaria.” Riverwind explained.

 

Link stared at the dark and chaotic storm, images swirling around in his own mind. “What happened to this Sargeras?” He asked.

 

The Tauren looked at him again, some skepticism in his eye. “They really taught you nothing, didn’t they, boy? Well, he’s the reason the world’s in the shape it’s in now, isn’t he? Him and his damn burning legion of demons trying to find ways to enter our world. It’s only been either damned good fortune or some merciful god smiling down on us that he hasn’t had his way with this world yet. Somehow, someone manages to throw a wrinkle in his plans at the last minute. The orcs for example. Most humans either don’t know or don’t believe it, but the orcs started off as a good, peaceful people in their own world. They were tricked by demon magic into invading our world and the human lands. But what the demons didn’t count on was the good and virtuous warrior spirit that still lived within orcs like Grom Hellscream and Thrall son of Durotan. No, they didn’t count on that at all.”

 

Riverwind chuckled at the thought. “Humans have short memories.”

 

“I had heard the orcs raided and destroyed villages and farms in the human kingdoms. They slaughtered innocents and warriors alike.” Link told him.

 

“Aye, they did, under the demon’s control. Their bloodlust was insatiable at that time. That was before the demon’s control over them was broken and they found themselves with no home and nothing to fight for. It was only warchief Thrall that roused them up and brought them to Kalimdor to live in peace, away from the humans. Do you know, it was Thrall and his people that came to the aide of mine when the centaurs had attacked us and nearly drove us out of our own homelands?” Riverwind said.

 

“No. I didn’t.” Link said quietly. He then asked, “So Sargeras is still out there?”

 

“Aye, for all anyone knows. He’s an immortal Titan, boy. The best we can hope for is banishment away from our world for a time. But I don’t think we’ll ever stop fighting. Not against him.” The Tauren continued to stare at the storm. “For whatever reason he’s fixed his sights on our world and he just won’t leave us alone.”

 

Link considered all of this quietly. Then the first mate spoke up again.

 

“The Captain wanted me to ask either you or the other Druid if you’d mind scouting ahead a bit in that bird form Druids take. We’re coming closer to Northrend and there are things in those waters which we’d do better to avoid if we can. I came to you because you looked like you could use something useful to do.” The first mate said.

 

Link nodded. He hadn’t stretched his wings (in the literal sense) since they had flown from Duskwood to Stormwind.

 

“You don’t have to go too far. Maybe just to see what we’ll encounter over the next day or so in between here and Valiance Keep. It’s just that you can only see so much from a crow’s nest while a bird can see for hundreds of miles it seems.” The Tauren continued.

 

“How long do we make port in Valiance keep for?” Link asked.

 

“Not long. The Captain promised we’d get you and your companions to Theramore in a week, and I’ve never seen him break his word. I’d guess we’ll only be there for half a day at most. Just enough to unload the little we have from Stormwind, and see what cargo we can take to Theramore. Business usually slows down this time of year so I’d wager it won’t hardly take any time at all this run.” Riverwind told him.

 

Link then focused on feeling himself as the giant crimson raptor once more, and worked to channel the forces of nature which energized the druidic magics. Suddenly, he found himself with feathers and talons. And when he did, he launched himself into the air, rising higher and higher until the _Maiden’s Virtue_ was a small speck on the vast sea of blue green.

 

The salty air and wind gave way to fresher currents as Link rose high above the ocean. It was cold, though. Much, much colder than it had been flying over Duskwood or Elwyn Forest. Link found he had to be careful of how much condensation he allowed to build up on his wings or else ice would begin to quickly form.

 

From that altitude, and with his raptor’s eyes, he could see easily for a hundred miles. In the near distance he saw great mountains and islands of ice jutting from the water, and farther in, about a day’s journey for the ship, was another great landmass that he assumed was the northern continent called Northrend. It was also covered in white, though there were some of the southern regions that held a wild green that was usually indicative of forests and fields.

 

As he soared high above, he turned towards the great eternal storm to get a better look at the thing of monstrous chaotic power. From altitude, it looked even more chaotically beautiful. It was mesmerizing just watching it. He could see that it formed a great whirlpool, the pull of which extended for many, many miles though what was in the center of the maelstrom was hidden by unnatural dark clouds and flashes of magic driven lightening and fire.

 

And then he spotted something else that wouldn’t have been seen from the crow’s nest of the ship. It was another ship, this one was larger, and seemed heavier than the _Maiden’s Virtue_ , and Link could tell with his razor sharp vision that it was loaded stem to stern with cannons. The sails on this ship were black with large slashes of blood red stripes running down them. As he gazed at it, the sailors of that ship raised their colors. Flying as the standard of that ship was a black flag emblazoned with a white skull and crossed bones behind it.

 

And that ship was on an intercept course with the _Virtue_.

 

Link whipped around and speed back to the _Maiden’s Virtue_ , dropping like a missile towards the deck and transforming once more before his feet hit the wooden planks. He darted from the prow of the ship where he landed across and down a flight of steps and into the captain’s cabin.

 

“What is the meaning of this?!” Captain Galloway demanded as the elven young man burst into his private quarters without invitation and unannounced. A yellowed sea chart was open on a table before him, a compass and sextant lay across them.

 

“Pirates, Captain!” Link announced. “Heavily armed, too. I saw their ship from the sky! They’re on a direct course for the _Virtue_ coming in from the north. They’ll intercept us within the hour.”

 

Galloway’s expression changed from one of outrage to quick calculations as his eyes looked away quickly and then snapped back. He grabbed a spyglass which had been fold up from his pocket, and then told Link, “Show me.”

 

They both made for the poop deck of the ship where Captain Galloway immediately unfolded the brass and leather spyglass and put it to his eye. He then pointed it in the direction Link gestured to.

 

Within seconds he pulled it away from his eye. “Damn.” He said. “Damn, damn, and damn it to the twisting nether!” He swore furiously.

 

“Can we outrun them?” Link asked.

 

“Maybe.” The captain said. “If we weren’t so heavily laden, and they weren’t coming straight for us from the direction we need to head. And before you ask,” He continued, “No, we can’t fight her, not directly. We don’t have the guns on board to take on the Bloodsails. We don’t have any guns on board for that matter. We’re not a bloody elven destroyer.”

 

Riverwind then came up to the poop deck, where the Captain gave him the short version.

 

“Your orders, captain?” Riverwind asked, understanding the seriousness of the situation.

 

“We can’t fight, they’ll blow us out of the water if we try. We can’t go forward, that’ll lead us straight into them.” Captain Galloway said. “We can’t turn around, otherwise we’ll be fighting both the wind and the Maelstrom currents, and the steam engine won’t take it. They’re close enough now, that if we veer north where we are there’s no safe harbor along the coast that could shelter us from them. That only leaves one option now, doesn’t it?”

 

A wicked, insane grin broke out over the captain’s face as he turned to face the dark chaos in the distance off the port side of the ship.

 

Riverwind gave a confused expression as the captain looked south with a calculating look in his eye. Then as he followed his captain’s gaze, understanding dawned over him and he said, “You can’t be serious. We’ll never be able to pull away. Better to give the Bloodsails what they want and pray they give quarter.”

 

“And do you think they got their name from being the merciful type of pirates? I’ll not be giving those bastards anything today. Not one bloody crate.” Galloway’s expression grew hard.

 

“But how…?” Riverwind was really working hard to understand the madness which appeared to have overtaken his captain.

 

“How rusty are your shaman skills, Mr. Riverwind? Do you think you can still bend the wind and water to your control?”

 

“It depends on the mood they’re in.” Riverwind responded, thinking. “This close to the Maelstrom, I wouldn’t count on the elements being cooperative.”

 

“The closer we get to her, the faster the currents will drive us west towards Kalimdor. All we need to be able to do, my Tauren friend, is be able to break away from her before she tries bringing us in for a dance more to her liking. Between your elements and our steam engine, do you think we can manage to lose our new friends?” Galloway asked. “Valiance Keep will have to keep for a few weeks I’m afraid.”

 

“If we survive it.” Riverwind added, unconvinced.

 

“That’s the spirit, lad!” Galloway told him. He then barked orders to the rest of his crew, “Thirty degrees to port, lads! Let’s see if the Bloodsails are willing to dance the Maelstrom, shall we?!”

 

The sailor at the wheel reluctantly obeyed his captain’s order, but, Link noticed, not without looking to the first mate, fear in the sailor’s eyes, for confirmation which the first mate gave with his own serious expression. He turned the wheel hard, and the ship began its voluntary turn towards the beating heart of the eternal, ship destroying storm.

 

The Captain then relieved the pilot and took over the wheel himself, apparently not willing to give the responsibility for their survival or demise to any other sailor on board.

 

It was then that Marshal McBride and Oliver came out from below decks, having felt the sudden change in direction of the ship. They came up to Link questioning.

 

“What is going on? It felt like we just turned south!” McBride exclaimed.

 

“We have.” Link answered, facing the soldier.

 

“What? Is the captain mad? Even I know we’re already skirting too damn close to the Maelstrom currents. What does he want to do, kill us all?!” McBride fumed.

 

“Pirates,” Link answered, “he called them Bloodsails. I spotted them when I was scouting from the air.”

 

“Bloodsails?” McBride asked. “Damn.” He swore. “What a choice.” Though he no longer appeared critical of the Captain’s decision.

 

“Who are the Bloodsails?” Link asked.

 

“The Bloodsail Buccaneers are what they’re called.” McBride replied. “They take pride in the name too, the filthy lot. But I’ve never heard of them raiding this far north before. They’re usually down off the coast of Stranglethorn. One of the stories about them, I don’t know if it’s true or not, is they got their name from dying their sails with the blood of the unlucky bastards who run afoul of them.”

 

Link looked at the Maelstrom to the south, and then looked in the direction where he knew the pirates would be coming from. _I could stop them_. He thought to himself. It wasn’t his first choice, but the alternative might mean the lives of everyone aboard.

 

Link made his decision.

 

“Captain Galloway!” He called out to the older man at the helm of the ship.

 

“What is it, lad?!” The Captain called back.

 

“We have an hour til they intercept us on our present course, right?” Link asked, his mind calculating.

 

“Aye, that’s what you figured.” Galloway replied.

 

“Give me that hour. Don’t take the ship any farther in than you know for certain you can pull her out again just yet.” Link said.

 

“What do you plan to do, lad? Take on the whole bloody ship of pirates by yourself?” Galloway asked.

 

Link didn’t answer, but the resolute look in his eye answered the captain’s question for him.

 

“And you think I’m mad!” The Captain answered. “There’ll be easily over a hundred men on board that ship, none of whom will think twice of slitting you from stem to stern and using your worgen pelt as a winter cloak!”

 

Link had already begun to shift his form as gray and white fur sprouted over his body, and his features became decidedly lupine. “Just don’t take the ship further in. Give me one hour.” Link’s deep, animal voice told him, his eyes sharp and deadly serious.

 

Seeing the lethal look in Link’s worgen eyes, the Captain agreed and began to turn the wheel back, setting a straight course west and slightly north away from the currents.

 

“Alright, lad. One hour.” He told him.

 

Immediately, Link’s powerful worgen limbs launched himself up from the deck and his body transformed yet again into the crimson raptor which continued its journey high up and speeding to the north where the Bloodsail ship was fast closing in on the unarmed trading vessel.

 

Within minutes, the Bloodsail dreadnaught was in sight. There were men and women aboard, Link could see with his raptor’s eyes. All of them wore dark red sashes or hats as a kind of loose uniform of their gang. They were moving efficiently and expectantly across the deck, loading cannons and preparing to overtake their prey.

 

The next thing they knew was a white and green whirlwind of fangs, fur, and silver and blue steel on their forward deck. He had briefly considered giving them the chance to turn around and be spared, but then saw the looks in their eyes as he landed. They were cruel and twisted. He knew that look very well. It was the look of an animal that needed to be put down before it killed again.

 

The Master Sword leaped to his hand, his shield appearing as if by magic in his right. The Triforce of Courage burned on the back of his hand filling his body with its unique energies as time slowed down and he saw his targets clearly. This was only enhanced by his new found worgen strength, speed, and agility.

 

The pirates made the mistake of attacking first. Soon, the deck of the ship began to match the color of the sails as the wooden planks ran red, and a trail of pirate corpses was left in Link’s unrelenting wake.

 

His finely tuned senses were alive as even the tiniest movement of a would be attacker was heard before a blade had a chance to fall against him. Heads were separated from bodies, stomachs were slashed open and throats were ripped out by battle enraged fangs. There was little conscious thought in the slaughter which took place.

 

Link worked his way down and into the lower decks of the ship, and the screams of the dying echoed across the gun deck.

 

“Please, gods no!” One pirate screamed as Link’s enraged form approached him, his muzzle dripping with gore and blood, his leather chest plate spattered as well. The pitiful human creature cowered in front of him, but Link was in the grip of the worgen’s bloodlust as he launched himself at the young man, younger even than he.

 

 _REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE!_ The voice, clear as a bell, rang through his heart and mind and the worgen nightmare was brought up short and stopped. Through colorblind eyes, Link looked once more at his intended victim.

 

He couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old, and human. The light gray of his hair might have been blond in reality. He was barefoot and dressed only in ragged linen trousers and a dirty shirt that might have been white once upon a time. Wisps of a light beard could be seen growing in patches around his face. But it was his eyes that haunted the warrior. His light gray eyes were those of an innocent.

 

Link stopped dead where he was. _I know who I am._ He thought to himself. He closed his eyes, and reverted to his true form. The master sword was wiped against a dead pirate’s shirt and then returned to its scabbard. _I am the hero, not a monster_.

 

Though as his senses returned to normal, and he surveyed the carnage around himself and the terror in the poor boy’s eyes. He was no longer entirely convinced of it.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

Captain Galloway kept a steady hand on the wheel of his ship. He had deliberately allowed it to drift farther into the currents of the great storm at the center of the world to dissuade their would be attackers from following. It had only been through the mad intervention of the young elven, worgen Druid that he hadn’t allowed it to go further. As it stood though, the wheel and the winds and the currents were all vying for the ship’s direction and attention, and he fought all of them with every ounce of strength and skill that he had.

 

He knew that the _Maiden of Virtue_ ’s speed had increased with the stronger currents. Even if they did break free, they wouldn’t be able to double back towards Valiance Keep in Northrend now. Neither the winds nor the water would permit it. In order for him to keep his word to his passengers on their time frame, he couldn’t bring the ship around and make port fast enough. They would have to move on towards Theramore in the southeastern edge of Kalimdor. And if the lad was successful in his suicidal run against the Bloodsails… well, Captain Galloway would owe it to them to get them into port on time then, wouldn’t he? And he always paid his debts.

 

“Captain, sir! Ship off the Starboard bow!” Came the cry from the crow’s nest.

 

“Mr. Riverwind!” Galloway called out. “Take the helm!”

 

The Tauren first mate obeyed quickly, and with his own great strength held the wheel sure and steady, guiding the ship between the elemental forces driving her. As he did, chanting could be heard in a whisper coming from the first mate. It was tribal and rhythmic, and the Tauren’s hands glowed as he kept the wheel steady.

 

It had been almost an hour. The Captain gave his word, as mad as it was, to not try his own plan until the boy had attempted his. To be honest, the young Druid had courage. The captain had to give him that much. It was an insane, reckless courage that could get most fools killed, but there was something in the boy’s serious expression that told him there was more to the worgen-elf than met the eye.

 

He pulled out his spyglass and searched off to the starboard. Then he saw what his boy in the crow’s nest saw. The Bloodsail dreadnaught approaching at nearly full sail. The winds continued to push it ever south towards them.

 

His first thought had been, _Well, at least the fool tried._ And then he saw the colors of the ship, the flag that it flew. It was a white sheet with speckles of blood across it, as though someone with bloodstained hands had hoisted it up.

 

The captain then quickly searched the deck with his glass as the dreadnaught came closer. Strangely, there seemed to be no one aboard her. And then his glass caught a lone figure in green and white with red splotches staining his clothes. He stood at the helm of the ship, inexpertly trying to guide it.

 

 _Well, I’ll be damned to the nether._ Galloway thought.

 

“Your orders, captain?!” Riverwind asked. “Do we turn into the Maelstrom or resume course?”

 

“Neither, lad!” The captain called back with a grin. “Turn us north a bit to intercept her. We try and pull up alongside. Looks like we’ve got a passenger to retrieve.”

 

“Sir?” The Tauren questioned in his deep voice.

 

“Just do it, Riverwind. I’ve a feeling our young elf has quite the story to tell us tonight.” The captain told him.

 

Not long after, between Riverwind’s shamanistic chants and the _Virtue’s_ steam engines they were able to intercept the heavily armed dreadnaught and come alongside her with hooks and ropes to allow passage in between the ships.

 

As several men crossed over to the Bloodsail vessel, they immediately wished they hadn’t. The first to do so landed on wooden decks slick with congealing human blood. The corpses of pirates, torn apart either by blade, fang, or claw littered the deck haphazardly. Those men that found themselves among the scene, smelling the blood and the seeing the fresh horror doubled over, unable to contain the bile which rose from their stomachs, and only adding to the smell.

 

The Bloodsail dreadnaught had become a ship of the dead.

 

Captain Galloway followed his men over, but he too was unprepared for the sight or the smell. He had no words for the scene which assaulted his senses, and he considered himself a hardened man even as his eyes began to water.

 

He placed one leather booted foot in front of the other on board that ship of the damned, and made his way up to the helm where the elven Druid attempted to maintain control of the vessel, even though it was clear his experience at such things was minimal at best. The young elf’s eyes held a haunted, lethal look. But there was also a sadness in them, and a resignation.

 

The man turned back to the sight of the horrible slaughter before him, and then back to Link and asked in a gravelly, emotional whisper, “Gods man, what kind of demon are you? I’ve never… Never in my life… I...” He couldn’t begin to express what he felt or thought.

 

“There are three survivors down below.” Link told him, his voice flat and unemotional, hard as obsidium from Mount Hyjal. “They’re all just boys, press ganged into service with the pirates. They won’t be any trouble. The Bloodsails have a hold full of loot from their conquests if you’re interested.” It was clear from Link’s tone of voice, he himself was not.

 

Galloway looked at him, looked into his eyes and saw the horror that Link felt, the horror he couldn’t turn back the clock and change. He straightened up, but spoke gently. “Alright, lad. We’ll see to them. And we’ll have a look at the loot you spoke of. It’s not every day a trading ship gets to loot a Bloodsail. Let my lads have the wheel there. When we’re done with her, we’ll let the Maelstrom take her and send this lot to a proper burial at sea.”

 

Link set a knotted rope on the wheel of the ship, holding it in place, and walked away from it. He silently walked among the torn bodies of male and female sailors, pirates and brigands all. He looked at each one as he passed by. Then he crossed to the _Virtue_ , and did not return.

 

Link went to the railing of the _Maiden’s Virtue_ to stare once more at the storm to the south of them. At that moment he felt a kind of kinship with the Maelstrom, as great clouds of darkness and flashes raged within his mind and heart.

 

After some time, Link didn’t know how much, another man came up and stood beside him at the rail. The Hylian warrior then felt a hand on his shoulder, friendly and supportive. Oliver’s voice spoke next to him, though Link did not move his head.

 

“The worgen took over, didn’t he boy?” Oliver asked.

 

Link said nothing, but slowly nodded.

 

“It is always a danger when we assume that form, doubly so when we fight in it. The scent of the blood and the fear gets into the nostrils and it’s like...” Oliver tried to finds words.

 

“It’s intoxicating.” Link finally spoke. “I’ve fought before, Oliver. I’m no stranger to slaughter when slaughter is called for to defend and protect those that can’t. But this...” Link trailed off trying to express what he was feeling. “That guy was terrified of me. He was only a few years younger than me, too. I would have torn him apart in the blood frenzy I was in. It was only the voice inside of me that stopped me. I’ve lived many, many lives, Oliver. In each one I have always been the Hero destroying monsters to protect our land. Today, I became the monster.”

 

Oliver paused and stared out at the storm in the distance. “This is the curse of being what we are, Link.” He finally said. “It’s not the transformation in body. That’s what everyone always thinks. No, that is easy enough to control and manipulate. The curse is the vigilance needed to keep the monster within in check. It will never be an easy task for you or for me, but it can be done by keeping a constant reminder of who you really are.”

 

Link turned to face Oliver. The master Druid saw a single tear had fallen from his left eye creating a path through the blood which Link had accumulated on his face and hadn’t cleansed off yet.

 

“What if I don’t know who I really am any more?” Link asked. “I remember, Oliver. I remember all of those past lives, more than I can count. I remember all the way back, thousands of years ago to a soldier protecting a group of academics and scientists in a world they had just discovered through a portal. I remember every time I’ve donned this green tunic and fought for that world and for...” Link hesitated. He knew who she was, and what she meant to him. In some ways, his whole continued existence had been defined by protecting her and being her shield and sword when she needed him to be.

 

Oliver looked into the young elf’s pain filled eyes. The boy had known true horrors in his memories, more than the one that had unfolded itself for him today. He felt nothing but empathy for him. He also saw a young man who needed the guidance and attention of some father figure that understood him and what he was going through, and for whom no such being existed or could exist.

 

Not knowing what else to do, Oliver drew the young man, blood spattered clothes and face notwithstanding, into an embrace and held him. Link stiffened in resistence at first when he did so, but then let go and his tears began to flow more freely.

 

“I can’t say I understand who you are or where you come from, son of Ysera.” Oliver told him. “But you’re a part of my pack now, and the pack survives by working together. Lone wolves die in the wilderness. Next time, we hunt together you and I, and together we will keep the monster at bay. You told me that, in all those past lives of yours, you were the Hero who protected and defended those who could do so for themselves. Hold on to that. Be the Hero, my young friend. don’t ever let go of it.”

 

Hours later, after the survivors had been taken on board the _Maiden’s Virtue_ and what loot the captain deemed appropriate was brought into her hold, the ropes that bound the two ships together were cut, and the Bloodsail vessel was allowed to drift farther south towards the storm. The sailors on board the trading ship all stood for a time in silence watching her go, giving the dead crew a respectful, even if undeserved, moment to allow their souls to find whatever peace they could with whatever gods the Bloodsail pirates might have feared. At least that way, perhaps the ghosts of the dead ship would go and leave them and theirs in peace.

 

Then Captain Galloway gave orders to move on.

 

* * *

 

Around Azeroth, mages and wizards suddenly found themselves cut off from the city which had taken its places as the heart of magical study and training in the world. Portals attempted would fail. Teleportation spells would leave the mage dazed and confused. Mages from both Alliance and Horde found themselves stymied as to why the great floating city of magic had suddenly become silent and inaccessible.

 

Over the heart of the northern continent, a great darkness of shadows began to flow from the sky born city, cascading down like terrible falls and striking the land below. Wherever it touched, anything living began to whither and die. Those remains of the myriads of creatures that had fallen in combat in that land suddenly found themselves recombining and rising up from the ground in response to a summons from a dark and powerful master.

 

Only those already dead seemed to be immune to the oncoming blight of darkness. Some of these cheered as it seemed their plans had come to fruition. Others were not so enthusiastic. They watched it with a wary eye as their living comrades, some whom they might have even called friends once upon a time, fell before it. They were remembering another such plague and the destruction it had wrought.

 

The darkness spread until it had encompassed all the land beneath the darkened city of Dalaran. From a high tower, an imposing green skinned man with flaming red hair and eyes of red fire watched with satisfaction. A triangular mark of energy burned with a fierce white light on the back of his right hand as the divine power was invoked for demonic purpose.

 

* * *

 

The Night Elf Sentinel made her rounds across the archaeological site of Forest Song studiously and with purpose under the full light of mother Elune. The moon’s soft white glow bathed her azure skin, and light blue hair with its maternal light giving her strength for her night’s patrol across the ruins as the Draenei team turned in for their own rest period and the Kaldorei team took over when the moons and the stars came alive for all to see.

 

It was her job to see to the safety of her fellow Kaldorei that sought to understand their own history and people better. While thousands of years old herself, she had not been a witness to this settlement or town in its lifetime, having been born later, after the first cataclysm to reshape this world.

 

She passed by and came to stand near the tower of Forest Song. Its entrance remained sealed to the archaeologists and no amount of study or even brute force seemed to cajole the stone slab which blocked its entry way to open. She had nothing to add or contribute to the effort in that way. The ways of the ancient Kaldorei were ways of arcane magic which she neither understood nor trusted.

 

At some distance to her left, and up on a hill stood the leader of the Kaldorei expedition, Kayneth Stillwind. He was a handsome, fit, and driven Night Elf man with dark blue hair and beard and light lavender skin tones. At times his eyes seemed haunted with the ghosts of the past as he walked the camp. Since her posting here, she had wondered if he had seen this place living and active in his youth, or if he had discovered it much later. She had not wanted to intrude on his privacy, so she left the question open for a later, possibly more intimate time if one could be had.

 

No one else was near her at that moment. No one else needed to be. The focus of the dig had become the deteriorating temple up on the hill where the project leader now stood. The tower had been slightly set apart to the west of the ruins and backed up to the hill.

 

Suddenly, she felt dizzy and sleepy, and then she knew nothing at all as she collapsed gently to the ground in a deep sleep. From out of the shadows of a nearby tree, a walking corpse dressed in fine red mage’s robes stepped quickly and quietly to drag her into the underbrush and out of sight. He was assisted by an athletic and well muscled brownish-green skinned orc woman whocould move more quietly than he. The mage could have ended her life, he knew, and it might have been the smarter thing to do, but, being intimately acquainted with the state of death, he had lost his taste for inflicting it on others.

 

When the guard had been safely secured in the underbrush, a third person stepped closer to the two others. Her long blond hair, pale, refined elven facial structures, and sapphire blue eyes stood in sharp contrast to the orc’s savage though handsome appearance, and the undead mage’s own decrepit features, however handsome he might have been before his initial death.

 

“She’ll be alright, won’t she?” Zelda asked, concerned.

 

“She’ll be just fine, my dear; just a sleeping potion. She’ll have a good few hours worth of nap time and wake up feeling quite refreshed actually. It will probably be the first good sleep she’s had in a long time.” Gereth replied.

 

Zelda’s hand then began to burn, and she felt a pull towards the great, cylindrical stone tower. The mark on the back of her hand began to glow with a white energy, and the single triangle in the bottom corner lit up like a small lamp.

 

“It’s there, in the tower, I’m sure of it.” She said.

 

“Then let us not waste time.” Shaggara replied, already moving towards the stone archway which served as a bridge up to the sealed stone doorway.

 

The other two followed quickly and discreetly.

 

They had spent two more days in Silvermoon after that initial day planning and gathering supplies. Gereth had pointed out that the two women hadn’t slept or rested for some time that first day, so he was insistent on their taking the time to recover their energy for the endeavor. He also needed time to acquire more elements and ingredients for the various spells and potions he might need to use during their new quest. Some of them could be bought at local merchants in the City, others required that he go a little farther afield to find them, though he was never gone for long. On the third day, he had opened a portal back to Ashenvale and Forest Song, though in a discreet location not patrolled by either the Dragonkin in Bough Shadow or the Alliance guards.

 

All three ventured quietly up the ancient, gracefully curved stone ramp, carved millennia before any of them had even been born in this life. The architecture reminded Zelda somewhat of the curves and graceful features of the structures of Silvermoon, though softer and less dramatic. The people of Silvermoon preferred reds and browns and gold to stand out and commemorate the sun where the ancient Kaldorei that produced Forest Song built their settlement under the inspiration of the soft, pale light of the twin moons and the stars, using white marble and subtle, elegant forms.

 

They approached the slab which blocked entry to the tower and stood before it. Gereth and Zelda faced the tower while Shaggara kept her eyes outward for any unwanted attention from the academics or sentinels from Darnassus.

 

Zelda stood before the slab, the mark on her hand surging with an energy that was excited and pulsing. She looked across its face, but there were no markings that she could see. She carefully scanned the white stone from top to bottow, and the stone lintels as well. But there was nothing.

 

“I don’t see anything that looks familiar. I’m sure the Triforce is behind this door somewhere, but I don’t see anything indicating how to get past it.” Zelda told the undead mage.

 

He quickly went over it again with his own milky white dead eyes, waving his hand slowly across its face and concentrating as he did so.

 

“There’s a magical barrier here.” He then pronounced. “It’s too strong for my magic, I can’t overcome it.” He said. “It feels like divine magic of the Holy Light, though.”

 

“Whatever you need to do, do it quickly.” Shaggara warned the two. “We have no cover here except their ignorance of our presence, and she wasn’t the only Sentinel on patrol.”

 

“If the Paladin brought the Golden Flame here, then he must have been able to get through it himself. Paladins can be powerful wielders of the Holy Light, but they aren’t mages, and they aren’t trained in Night Elf incantations. Those are a different set of magics altogether.” Gereth reasoned. “It would have had to have been something he already knew or possessed, or something he might have learned from the Gnome, Linken.”

 

 _Wisdom_.

 

The thought flashed through Zelda’s mind. She was the keeper of the divine _wisdom_. The Triforce had chosen her ancestor. She lifted her right hand towards the slab and pressed it flat in the center. The mark glowed with a brilliant golden light which radiated out across the stone slab in a familiar pattern of three triangles, her own hand at the center.

 

And then a melody from her childhood came to her mind as if bidden by the energies of the Triforce she carried, and she found herself humming it gently, “hmm-mmm-hmmm… hmm-mmm-hmmm...” A low note followed by a slightly higher one, and then a lower note than the first repeated twice. Six notes in all.

 

The Triforce symbol which had formed on the slab flashed as though it had somehow recognized and accepted the melody, and then the stone slab in front of them seemed to quietly fade from existence as though it had never existed in the first place.

 

“I think we found our key, princess.” Gereth remarked. “What was that melody?”

 

“It was a lullaby my nursemaid taught me when I was little.” She replied. “It just came to me.”

 

Memories then flashed through her mind of a young Hylian boy dressed in the clothing of the mysterious fairy people of the forest. He looked very much like…

 

Zelda shook her head, trying to clear it but the image wouldn’t leave. Then something within her awakened further, and she knew the melody was from long, long ago in her land. Another memory of an older blond woman with bright sapphire blue eyes and matching dress speaking to her and saying, “this will be the security key to unlock them. Learn it well my daughter, note for note. The recognition will be very sensitive in all the security systems. It can’t be in the wrong key or octave. Use a flute or an ocarina if you need to.”

 

“Yes, mother.” She had responded to that woman in that place so long ago whose architecture looked much like the fallen structures around her.

 

“What did you say?” Gereth asked her.

 

Zelda was pulled out of her memories abruptly. For a second, she wasn’t sure where she was and then it came back to her. They were in Forest Song in the world called Azeroth.

 

“I’m sorry?” She asked.

 

“I thought you called me ‘mother’ for a second. Are you alright?” Gereth asked.

 

“What?” She asked. “I didn’t… I’m sorry, it was just a memory. I didn’t realize I had said anything out loud.” She told him.

 

Gereth looked at her with concern, but then said to her gesturing politely, “Time is of the essence, my dear. After you.”

 

Zelda then stepped through the open doorway, and Gereth and Shaggara followed directly behind her. As Shaggara stepped through completely, the slab of stone rematerialized and they were sealed inside.

 

They found themselves on a kind of white marble balcony overlooking a polished black stone spiral stairwell that led both upwards high into the tower, and downwards into unseen subterranean chambers. The stairs were narrow, only permitting one person to traverse them comfortably at a time. An ornate white silver railing ran the length of them upwards and downwards. Glowing blue crystals perched on ornate scepters jutting elegantly from the marble walls on glowing silver posts gave a soft but adequate light to their eyes.

 

“Up, or down?” Shaggara asked, directing the question to Zelda.

 

She felt the mark tugging her gently downwards. She could feel the divine energy flowing through the very stone of the floor she stood on. It was calling to her as if to a part of itself.

 

“Down.” Zelda finally managed to say.

 

 _What is happening to me?_ She asked herself.

 

Zelda led the way downwards. She had never been in this world before, much less this place and yet she had seen all of it before in her mind’s eye, in surfacing memories that had been buried so deep that they should have been irretrievable.

 

“I thought you said your mother died when you were born?” Gereth asked abruptly from behind her as they followed the curving spiral stairs.

 

“What? Oh, yes. She did.” Zelda responded. “What is this metal?” She then asked, changing the subject. “I’ve never seen silver which glowed like moonlight before.”

 

“Truesilver.” Gereth responded, not put off in the slightest. He then returned to his question. “How could you have a memory of your mother, if you don’t remember her?”

 

“I don’t know.” She said. “I just saw an older woman with a kind smile in my memory who resembled my own reflection in the looking glass, and I knew that my mother was talking to me. She was teaching me the lullaby.”

 

“Perhaps it was a memory of just after you were born, before she died.” Shaggara offered as she kept her eyes moving around the stairs and stairwell, looking for anything out of the ordinary that could be a threat to them.

 

“That’s not possible.” Zelda replied. “My mother died in childbirth, but I know the memory was real.”

 

Gereth remained silent, but pondered the question as they traveled downwards. At the same time, he too was trying to concentrate, using his magic to detect traps or other obstacles. So far, the stairwell was as it appeared. Just an ornate, ancient stairwell.

 

After many minutes of slow descent, the downward spiral ceased, and they found themselves in a small chamber with a white marble floor. An archway not far from the end of the stairs promised more to come.

 

Zelda was the first to step through the stairwell, following the pull of the Triforce. She emerged into a chamber with white marble walls and elegant columns and arches that seemed impossibly large and spacious. It was easily five or six times larger than her father’s great hall and throne room. She could just barely make out the opposing wall and archway on the other side in the far distance.

 

The smell of soil, and fauna, and green growing things filled the air, and a gentle warm mist was everywhere. The room was lit as though the light of both full moons was pouring in, though Zelda could not identify the source of light. Many huge trees, and much wild flora populated the chamber in a kind of peaceful grove. A stream of running water flowed in a wide groove lazily from one end of the chamber to the other moistening the soil nurturing the plant life as it did. It was serene, quiet, contemplative, and Zelda felt herself relax and let go, her worries and troubles bleeding into the air away from her.

 

Around her, unknown to her, a white energetic light pulsed and began to spread.

 

 _Let go, daughter…_ The voice in her mind was maternal, and melodic. It was a voice of wisdom, and used to bubbling laughter like a babbling brook. _Release your burden…_

 

“Zelda?” Another voice, raspy and concerned, came to her, but it sounded far away now. Friendly, but distant.

 

 _Let go, Hylia…_ _Let go of your fear and follow me, daughter…_

 

“Hylia?” Zelda asked aloud. And then she realized, _That’s my name._ And it felt like she was coming home. _Hylia is my name…_ _I am Hylia_.

 

“I am Hylia.” She said out loud. “My name is Hylia.”

 

The floodgates of her deepest memories exploded upon her and within her. Holy light began to flow around her and through her and through the floor around her and across the chamber.

 

“Princess?” The raspy voice asked again from somewhere in the distance. She heard another, friendly and concerned voice say, “I don’t dare touch her now, I may not survive. You must try and bring her out of it, my dear. Shaggara?” The other voice became confused. “Shaggara can you hear me?”

 

 _Shaggara. I know that name. Shaggara is my friend, the orc warrior._ Zelda thought to herself. And as the thought of her friend penetrated her mind, the memory of her other friend, the undead mage who was so charming and kind to her came into her thoughts and she then realized, _he can’t survive my light!_

 

She focused hard on the girl she had been, the insecure, frightened princess who never felt herself worthy of who she was supposed to be and wanted desperately to live up to her namesake. Slowly, the light began to recede back into her being and her surroundings began to come into focus once again.

 

She turned around to face her friends, the two who had been so kind to her in this world. The poor mage had retreated back through the archway trying to escape the Holy Light which was so devastating to his kind. He looked at Zelda with a mixture of both fear and concern in his milky white eyes.

 

But what truly scared Zelda was the reaction of the older orc woman with the streaks of gray in her warrior’s pony tail. Tears streamed down her face, and her eyes appeared to still be looking far away. Her expression was one of joy, as well as fear, sorrow as well as exultation.

 

“Shaggara?” Zelda asked gently. “Shaggara, it’s me, Zelda. Shaggara come back to me, please.”

 

Shaggara’s eyes then seemed to come back into focus and it was as if she was seeing Zelda for the first time. But the first words out of Shaggara’s mouth were what truly made her afraid for her friend, for both of her friends.

 

“My Lady...” Shaggara intoned reverently, awe filling her voice. “I have seen the Holy Light, and I was spared...”

 

“It’s just me, Shaggara. I’m just Zelda, I promise.” Zelda told her, hoping to snap her out of it.

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, princess.” Came Gereth’s voice as he approached cautiously, carefully. “Or should I call you Hylia, now? That is the name you just called yourself. I hope we needn’t have the conversation about trust again for any of us.”

 

“I remember.” Zelda said in response, trying to collect herself and piece back together who she was, all of who she truly was.

 

“What do you remember?” Gereth asked.

 

“Everything.” Zelda replied in a whisper. “I know who I am, who I was, and who I am meant to be.”

 

“And who does this self-revelation inform you as to you are?” Gereth asked Zelda, though he eyed his long time orc friend with much concern and fear.

 

“I am Hylia, daughter of Nayru, goddess of Hyrule.” Zelda replied quietly, though with certainty. “I am the Holy Light, the warrior goddess of my people who bound her fate with theirs to defend and protect them.”

 

Zelda’s voice began to ring with an otherworldly authority.

 

“Please, my dear, I don’t know if I can survive that again. Please try and stay Zelda for a little while longer.” Gereth tried to say lightly, as if making a jest, but there was a real pleading in his dead eyes for his life.

 

Zelda closed her own eyes and focused, concentrating on her life in the palace at Castle Town, and her friend and companion, the young man in green who had rescued her from the escaped Demon King, and then even that memory triggered another deeper memory, one where they were more than just friends, and had been for millennia.

 

“Oh.” She whispered. “I remember, now. Oh my sweet Link. Did you remember us? Were you waiting for me? You must have been.”

 

“We have to.” She then said to Gereth. “I remember, those were the conditions.”

 

“You have to what, Zelda? What was a condition for what?” He asked.

 

“We have to remain mortal. That was the condition for...” She tried to explain, but then was interrupted.

 

SNAP!

 

The sound of wood snapping and groaning grew louder and louder behind her. Gereth’s dead eyes went wide, and Shaggara seemed to come back to herself. Her expression grew serious and hardened as she looked past her younger friend.

 

“What…?” Zelda asked, and Shaggara pointed past her.

 

The Hylian princess turned around to see what her friends were staring at. Staring back at her from the chamber were the trees. Their branches had morphed into great wooden hands, and their huge twisted trunks now sported eyes and mouths twisted into the bark. Their roots had been pulled up and twisted into the forms of feet and long wooden toes. They were turning their new wooden heads this way and that, and stretching their branches become arms as though yawning after waking up from a long sleep.

 

“Kaldorei Ancients and forest tenders.” Gereth said in a low voice.

 

“They must be the guardians of this place.” Zelda said, her memories agreeing with her.

 

“Shaggara believes you are correct.” Shaggara said, the unease in her voice rising as the wooden tree creatures suddenly seemed to spot the trio still near the archway. “Shaggara also believes we need to come up with a plan. Now.”

 

Their eyes fixed on Zelda, the tree guardians began marching quickly towards them, their expression less than friendly.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 

The eyes of the trees were on Zelda as they charged towards the three companions. There were great hulking, barely humanoid in form, creatures of wood and bark that seemed to wear the moss and living things on them like adornments. In spite of their seemingly hostile intent, there seemed to be a wisdom about their eyes which transcended all mortal notions of time. And then there were the smaller, less humanoid creatures, more treeish in shape and motion that moved along the ground with their roots digging and releasing into the ground like frenzied serpents.

 

The Zelda that she had been was terrified at the incredible sight of a peaceful grove turned battalion of guardians. But the Zelda she had become was so much more as she observed the scene calmly and with a confidence her former self didn’t possess.

 

“There are too many. This is a battle we cannot win. We need to leave, now!” Shaggara said to both of her companions, her sharp battle-axe coming into her hand regardless.

 

Fireballs erupted in Gereth’s hands, ready to be hurled towards the wooded creatures of magic as harsh, combative chanting erupted from his lips.

 

But all of this happened as though in slow motion to the Hylian woman that stood between her friends and the angered trees as she gazed on their hostile march towards them. Deep in her memories she knew these creatures. She knew where they came from and what produced them, and more importantly, she knew why they were here and to what they would answer.

 

She did not need to have personally visited this place before. All the guardians would answer to but one key.

 

Zelda calmly but authoritatively took the glove off of her right hand, and held it up, rotating it so that the mark of the Triforce was clearly exposed. It shone with a holy light, the mark of Wisdom gleaming brightly.

 

“Stop.” She commanded, her voice raised and her tone final. Her voice left no room for misunderstanding and expected instant obedience.

 

As one, the army of living trees obeyed and came to a halt, all of them motionless their ancient, wise eyes on the shining Triforce. Faces of bark and wood, oak and ash gazed at her, scrutinizing and studying her in detail. Finally, one of them, a huge, hulking creature spoke. As he did, his deep voice resonated throughout the chamber.

 

“Who disturbs our rest?” The creature asked as though confused.

 

Zelda did not hesitate. “I am Zelda.” She told it, certain it would somehow recognize the name. “Keeper of the Triforce of Wisdom.”

 

“Zelda...” It repeated, turning its head slightly and staring into the distance as though remembering something from long, long ago. Then, a look of recognition as well as confusion came into its eyes, “Another Zelda has come bearing the Golden Flame?”

 

“Yes. You will permit me and my companions to pass unmolested.” She spoke with authority to the creatures.

 

But this one was not so easily moved.

 

“A Zelda came to us not long ago bearing the Golden Flame. He came and went, returning the Holy Power to its rest in this temple just as the Archdruid did before the great sundering of the world. How is it that you now bear it?” The Ancient asked.

 

In her mind, many questions were raised, all of which her deep memories provided answers for. The question then became, would the Ancient understand and accept those answers? What did wisdom demand from her answer? She had little time to contemplate it.

 

“Great and honored Ancient one,” Zelda continued more respectfully, trying to choose her words carefully, “I am the Zelda of Hyrule. The Golden Flame of Wisdom from that world has found me worthy to be its bearer. I come seeking the Golden Flame of Azeroth to restore balance to this world and defend it. Will you permit my companions and I to pass?”

 

“One of your companions is foreign to this world, the other not living.” The Ancient pronounced as its eyes studied and penetrated each one. “The Zelda may pass. The others must remain here in the Guardians’ Grove. No harm will come to them.”

 

Zelda nodded her understanding solemnly, then she turned to face her companions. Gereth’s hands had lowered, flames no longer raging in his palms. Shaggara’s axe had been lowered.

 

“We heard the conditions, princess.” Gereth told her. “Though, I don’t understand. What did he mean by ‘a Zelda’ had come here before?”

 

“One of your predecessors?” Shaggara asked. “One of the predecessors from your land came here before?”

 

Zelda shook her head. While she could recall from her deep memories passcodes, layouts, and plans of systems which had been told her previous self many, many lifetimes before; she knew none of them had been here specifically. No, instead another memory surfaced in explanation.

 

She recalled, “’Zelda’ is more than just a name, it is a title. In ancient Hylian it meant ‘holy warrior’ or ‘battle maiden’. It was the title of a guardian of the divine power.”

 

“Like a paladin?” Gereth responded, trying to fit the pieces together in his own keen mind. “Like the paladin who brought the Golden Flame back to this temple years ago. That’s what the Ancient was talking about. ‘Zelda’ means ‘paladin’ in the ancient form of your language?”

 

That possible translation hadn’t occurred to her. “Zelda” was the feminine form of the word, while “Zeldon” was the masculine so it could be entirely possible the word “paladin” was a descendent of the more ancient term. “Yes. I suppose it does.” She finally replied.

 

“But then that would mean these creatures know the ancient form of your language, and yet they have clearly been here from the time of the Kaldorei civilization before the sundering.” Shaggara spoke up, missing nothing. “How is that possible?”

 

Zelda’s deep memories flashed through her conscious mind, providing answers, though there was no time for her to explain. “How is it possible that we understood each other’s language to begin with?” She asked in cryptic response. “Right now, it seems this is my task to accomplish. I must go on alone. I believe the Ancient of War when he says you will not be harmed.”

 

Gereth took note of Zelda’s use of the Night Elf term for the creature that spoke. Neither he nor Shaggara had called them anything else but Ancients. More mysteries, though perhaps given her display the answer should have been obvious to him. It could be a riddle, what question could a goddess not answer?

 

“Shaggara does not like this, Zelda. You should not be alone.” Shaggara said genuinely concerned. “Regardless of what you are, there are dangers in our world that even the immortal gods should fear.”

 

Zelda smiled, appreciating Shaggara’s concern for her, but then she replied, “I don’t think that is the right way here. The Triforce is almost a living thing itself. It chooses those it finds worthy and those it doesn’t, and it will sunder if one touches it for whom the three forces are out of balance. I could use power to force my way through, but then that would be to the sacrifice of both wisdom and courage. I would be unworthy of it. It could be disastrous for your world.”

 

The memory of another Triforce from another sister world of her land flashed through Zelda’s mind. One whose Triforce had been destroyed, and was on the brink of destruction itself from its loss. This was another danger that concerned her. It was why her royal family and ancestors had tried to keep the legend of Zelda and the existence of the Triforce and the Sages who watched over it and their land to themselves.

 

Gereth had remained silent as she spoke. Then when she finished, he nodded and said, “Go. We will be waiting for you when you return. This will be our act of wisdom, Shaggara.” Then looking at the ancient guardians he added, “and courage.”

 

The orc warrior woman nodded reluctantly. “We will wait, my friend.” She agreed.

 

Zelda bowed her head slightly though wordlessly in response. She then turned her back to them, and began to walk with purpose through the rows of wooden guardians. Each of them moved aside to let her pass, and then once she had, they closed the gap, forming a nearly impenetrable barrier. But true to the Ancient’s word, they came no closer to her companions, but stayed at a distance, permitting them room to stretch their legs or rest, but not to go any further.

 

“Well, I suppose there are worse places to sit and wait, my dear.” Gereth said to Shaggara as he chose a spot of soft grass and soil near the artificial stream that ran through the chamber. He then sat down next to it. “It’s actually quite relaxing once you give it a chance. Come, join me.” He patted the patch of earth next to him.

 

Shaggara moved next to him and sat down cross-legged.

 

“There is much to this that begs answers.” Shaggara said, breaking the silence.

 

“Indeed.” The undead mage responded. “You and I have both seen a great many things in our adventures together, my dear. I thought I had a good grasp on the lore and history of our world. Now, everything I have learned appears to have been turned on its ear.”

 

“Shaggara does not care about that. The past remains the past. It only matters in what we can learn from it, and what problems it has left us to deal with.” Shaggara told him as she removed her axe and a sharpening stone and began scraping the stone over the dark metal edges.

 

“Very practical.” Gereth remarked.

“If I may ask, Shaggara,” he then began to say, “what did you see in the princess when she was surrounded by the light?”

 

“Why do you ask? You saw it too.” She replied.

 

“I had to retreat back from her too quickly. My _condition_ doesn’t respond well to divine light.” He replied. “I saw only the blinding light before I had to duck back into the stairwell. What did you see?”

 

Shaggara became thoughtful and pensive. When she responded after a time, she said only, “Eternity. Shaggara saw eternity wrapped with pale skin and elvish features. Shaggara has seen much in this world in her half century; many, many strange and wondrous things that defy all explanation. Shaggara has never seen such as she saw just now. Shaggara looked into the eternal, she is convinced of it, and she has survived.”

 

“I didn’t know you were religious in that way.” Gereth said.

 

“Shaggara trusts in her axe and the strength of her own arm. Shaggara fights for her people and for those who cannot fight. Shaggara has no time for deities that care nothing for the suffering of mortals.” The orc woman said. “These are all Shaggara has seen of those the priests of any religion preach.”

 

“I don’t sense that about our otherworldly princess. I don’t sense it at all.” Gereth observed.

 

“Neither does Shaggara.” She replied, thinking back to the orphanage, and the orc and troll children Zelda connected with.

 

* * *

 

Valiance Keep was unusually quiet as the _Maiden’s Virtue_ drew near. The sky above was overcast with thick dark clouds, and it was difficult to tell where the sun was, or even the time of day. Thunder rumbled in the sky over the waters, and sheet lightning flashed across its face.

 

Captain Galloway had offered to his passengers to bypass Northrend altogether and proceed onwards towards Theramore, but Link, McBride, and the others agreed that, while speed was a necessity, at least a few hours of port, and tavern, time would be good for everyone’s morale after their encounter with the Bloodsail ship.

 

Many of the crew kept a respectful distance from the elven warrior after that. Gratitude was expressed with their words at their rescue from a death by the Maelstrom or death by pirates. Fear was expressed in their eyes at the horrors they found in the aftermath of Link’s passage through the vessel.

 

There was also the matter of the additional cargo they plundered from the pirate vessel before sending it off into the storm at the center of the world. There were expensive bolts of cloth, ornate armor which could fetch hundreds if not thousands of gold pieces in Stormwind’s auction house, and relics and weapons of varying rarity and uniqueness. Much of it was heavy with gold, truesilver, and other metals more precious from these, and the new cargo weighed down the vessel more than the Captain was comfortable with for a longer journey of several days. He wanted to offload at least part of it in Northrend for cheap, making extra gold for ship’s expenses and acquiring extra stores and ship’s rations for morale, and then keep the more valuable pieces for the trip back to Stormwind after the stop in Theramore. There he and his crew would see the real payoff from the pirate’s loot.

 

Feeling he could now afford the extra fuel it would take to burn the ship’s engines to fight the currents towards the Northrend port, he directed his men to continue towards the Borean Tundra province. There was enough extra cargo on board he could part with to purchase more this trip.

 

Usually, there was much traffic moving in and out of the port. Ships from all over the known world supplied the Alliance forces in Northrend with fresh troops, food, weapons and whatever else they needed to combat the residual forces of the fallen Lich King. This was in addition to the growing Horde presence which seemed bent on taking large sections of the northern continent for themselves it seemed, all treaties and truces be damned.

 

Captain Galloway tended to stay out of such political discussions. He had his opinions, but his first mate, and probably his best and only friend, happened to be of a race aligned with the Horde. And Riverwind was the most honorable man he knew, including himself. Then there was also the Lady Jaina Proudmore with whom he had some acquaintanceship and her “friendship” with the orc warchief. The Lady Jaina was a good woman, and had a keen mind. Galloway wasn’t fond of too many orcs himself, but if the Lady Jaina trusted one, that meant he was a man worth trusting regardless of his race. And just within the last day, a Blood Elf, whatever his personal moral failings, saved the captain and his crew from a terrible fate either way.

 

Nope, he stayed out of those kinds of discussions. They might be bad for business. They might also get him arrested in some quarters. Also bad for business.

 

There was no traffic as the _Virtue_ drew closer. As Galloway used his spyglass on the port town, he saw no one out on the dock either, or up in the alleyways as he slowly moved the lens back and forth across the scene in front of him. No gryphons were present in their usual abode, and none flew to or from the port. It was as if it was a virtual ghost town.

 

The thought sent a chill up his spine as a memory of previous ports of call, Southshore and Gilneas, came to him and what the Forsaken Undead had done to them. This had a similar feel.

 

“The wind is foul, and the sea is in mourning.” Riverwind told him as he came to stand next to his captain. “The scent of fel dark magic is on the air and in the water, captain.”

 

“Aye, lad.” Captain Galloway responded. “I don’t need a shaman’s senses to see something’s very wrong here. I received a pigeon back from our buyers in Valiance just this morning when we were about to make port before the bloody pirates interfered. Sounded like everything was fine and they were expecting us.”

 

“Your orders, sir?” Riverwind asked.

 

“I don’t like the look of it, but we’re too heavy laden from the Bloodsail loot to move on and through Horde waters safely. Warchief Thrall’s not in charge now, is he? We can’t make a run for it if Hellscream’s patrols up and decide we’re violating the treaty. We need to make port and offload one way or the other, and at the very least,” he gestured towards the docks, “investigate. It may be something the Lady Jaina should know about.” Galloway told him.

 

“Aye, sir.” Riverwind replied.

 

Soon, as the ship’s engines brought them within a stone’s throw of the docks, the crews began seeing strange things in the water which had taken on a foul, greenish color. And then the fish began to appear, a few at first and the closer they came to the docks the denser and denser they became until the prow of the ship of was cutting through them as though attempting to cut through ice. They were floating on the surface as though they had been rotting for weeks, and the stench became overpowering to even the most weathered and salty seaman on board.

 

And then, “What is that?” One sailor called out. “Off starboard, something in the water.”

 

Riverwind called out, “Watch for beasties!” It was well known to the sailors that traversed this part of the world that the waters here were home to great whales and monstrous creatures that could and sometimes did fell even large and armored warships, though few were normally seen this close to a populated area.

 

All eyes went to the rotting waters. Tiny grating sounds were coming from the water, and in some places it was turbulent and bubbling around and under the decaying fish. In moments, a hole was opened among the corpses and many pairs of small skeletal jaws could be seen breaking through the surface, their sharp teeth snapping lethally.

 

“What in the name of the Holy Light are those?” One sailor asked.

 

Link was among those on deck observing the scene. More deep memories flashed through his mind and a name for them came to his mind which he voiced, “Skullfish.”

 

“What was that, lad?” Galloway asked, having heard him speak.

 

“They’re called ‘skullfish’. I’ve seen them before. It was a long time ago.” Link replied.

 

“I’ve heard stories from passengers who’ve seen similar things in places no sailor dares tempt, but I didn’t believe them.” Galloway said.

 

“They’ll strip the flesh off bones in a matter of minutes.” Link said. “They’re born of dark magic. They only appeared in my land when...” Link trailed off as he contemplated the implications.

 

“When what, lad?” Galloway asked.

 

 _How do I explain?_ Link was at a loss. And how could the cycle be starting here? Why would it be?

 

Galloway continued to expect an answer as he stared at the young elven Druid.

 

 _Is it even possible that_ he’s _here too?_ Link didn’t want to think about the damage and pain that would inflict on their world. It was supposed to be confined to Hyrule.

 

“Your world is in serious danger.” Link finally said as he watched the skullfish continue to feed on the rot.

 

“Azeroth had been in serious danger since its creation, lad. That’s nothing new.” Galloway remarked. “Sargeras has been trying hard to turn us into a demon infested fel hole for millennia, and somehow he always manages to be beaten back.”

 

Link nodded. The name “Sargeras” sounded familiar, from somewhere long, long ago but for the moment he couldn’t place it.

 

The ship came into port, her anchor was dropped, and the men cast the lines to tie her to the docks. The air reeked of death and decay and was hard to breathe. The stone and wood buildings of the keep and surrounding walls and structures, scarred and rebuilt from the frequent battles and cannon fire which had been waged against Valiance Keep looked to be in fresh repair. Barrels and crates still stood on the docks waiting to be moved either onto a ship or into a warehouse. It looked as though everyone had just dropped what they were doing and suddenly disappeared.

 

Sheet lightning struck across the dark clouds, now tinged with a sickly, unnatural green color. Thunder exploded a half second later. Many of the sailors jumped or twitched in response.

 

Without thought, Link was the first one to jump down to the dock and investigate the scene first hand. No one else followed him. He retained his Hylian form for fear of causing more panic among the already superstitious and wary crew unnerved as much by the new scene in front of them as they were by his single handed destruction of the Bloodsail pirates.

 

He immediately felt a wave of nausea, and some pain as his leather booted feet came to rest on the wooden planks. The feeling of despair and hopelessness assaulted him, and he could barely stand.

 

 _Dark magic_. He thought. _I know this magic_.

 

Then the triangle mark on his left hand began to burn with a holy energy, surrounding him and infusing him. It created a barrier between himself and the corrupting death energies around him. It was only then that he found he had been doubled over, unable to stand up straight for the sickness and pain.

 

When the Triforce within him had fully encapsulated him, protecting him, he called out to the ship’s men, “Don’t leave the ship! Unless you’re already dead, you’ll end up like the fish in the harbor!”

 

“How are you protected, lad?” Galloway called back.

 

“Ancient relic! Long story!” Link called back. “Let me check out the rest of the town. But if I’m right, we need to move on as quickly as we can.”

 

“You’ve got one hour, lad. If you can last that long, after that we take our chances south with what we’ve got.” Galloway replied. “The Lady of Theramore will want to know what’s happened here. Looks like Forsaken work to me.”

 

“I’m not so sure.” Link replied. “One hour.” He then agreed and moved towards the end of the dock and the cursed port town.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 

The chamber Zelda found herself in was small in comparison to the grand moonlit arboretum of tree guardians she had just come from. It was dark, lit only by the bright, but soft silver moonlight coming in through the bronzed doorway she had come through. The white marble and stone of which the rest of the temple had been built extended into this room as well, but bronzed lines seemed to trace across the floor and walls off into the shadows.

 

In the center of the room was a narrow bronzed pedestal which erupted out of the marble floors, and all the bronzed lines which seemed to flow and zigzag across the floors and walls flowed through the floor and up into the pedestal.

 

It was cool and serene in the chamber as Zelda entered. It felt like a monument or a tomb, subtly recalling the past memories of an ancient and enigmatic time. Deep memories ran through her conscious mind of a time long ago, when her own features weren’t as refined, and her ear tips were rounded like an Ordonian’s and she was a valued assistant to a brilliant woman.

 

Her footfalls echoed in the chamber as she came up to the pedestal and passed her hand over it. Instantly, a soft blue light began to trace around the pedestal in geometric shapes and ran down across the bronzed traces lighting them up until the entire room was framed in geometric shapes and symbols.

 

“System active.” Came soft female voice which Zelda had not heard in many, many thousands of years. “Database online. _Potentia_ module at twenty percent power.”

 

The female voice continued giving reports and updates, and memories of that first life became fresh in Zelda’s mind once again. She then placed her right hand, palm down on a series of geometric lines on the pedestal.

 

“Genetic markers identified.” Came the female voice. “Hylia, assistant researcher to Nayru, lead scientist of Hyrule expedition team. Species, Alteran. Place of birth, _Urbs Atlantus_ , Lantea.” The voice continued once more reporting all of her original vital data. It then ended with, “Welcome Lady Hylia, how may I serve you?”

 

“I seek to access to the _Trevirti_ of Azeroth.” Zelda announced within the chamber. The ancient word rolled off her Hylian tongue somewhat awkwardly.

 

The voice was silent as it considered the request. “For what purpose do you seek access?”

 

“This world has come under attack by one of the rogue ascended, and has suffered greatly. I seek to restore it to its balance.” Zelda replied evenly.

 

“Scanning.” Was the voice’s response. Within moments, it spoke again. “Your current mortal form indicates you are not a _Zelda_ of Azeroth, Lady Hylia. Access to the _Trevirti_ of Azeroth is restricted to mortals created for this world only. The last update of records in the database prior to standby mode, dated nine thousand nine hundred years ago indicate that Hylia, daughter of Nayru, died nine thousand, nine hundred and fifty four years ago in Hyrule. There is a ninety three percent chance that the Lady Hylia ascended. There are no estimates for the probability of her retaking mortal form. This is highly unusual.”

 

“I agree. It is an unusual situation.” Zelda conceded. She remembered the adaptive artificial intelligence program used to oversee these sites in various worlds. They fulfilled their programming and did their jobs well. It was a testament to the original programming skills of the diminutive woman she had known as “Fi” long, long ago. The truth was, she didn’t really know how to explain to the A.I. what had happened or why she was here now. She chided herself for not remembering more about these places.

 

She considered what her next words would be very carefully or else the A.I. might respond to her request as one kind of threat it was programmed to defend against. After considering and rejecting half a dozen possibilities, she realized that there was only one clear option in front of her if the Triforce was to be obtained and used for the good of this world as it was intended.

 

“There are two subjects waiting for me in the Arboretum.” She announced into the chamber. “Identify their validity as candidates to receive and make use of the _Trevirti_.”

 

“Scanning.” Came the female voice’s reply. How like her friend’s had been it sounded. “Scan complete.” The voice proceeded. “Subject one. Female. Species, Orc. World of Origin, Draenor. Approximate age, fifty three standard years.”

 

Zelda interrupted, “This subject’s species may have originated on Draenor, but she was born and raised here in Azeroth. Her designation is ‘Shaggara’.” Zelda hadn’t seen Shaggara’s birth first-hand, but according to her math and what she had learned of the Orc’s recent history in Azeroth, it was a safe assumption.

 

“Recalculating.” The voice accepted the new information. “Subject one, candidacy is valid.” The voice confirmed. It then continued, “Subject two. Male. Species…” The voice paused as though trying to make sense of its data. “Species identification error.” It finally pronounced.

 

The Hylian princess had wondered what the A.I. would make of her undead friend. “His species is ‘human’. His designation is ‘Gereth’.” She supplied.

 

“Genetic scans indicate residual human DNA, but corresponding life signs are not present in subject two, Gereth.” The voice explained further.

 

“Subject two was the victim of a virus which has altered his life signs significantly. Add new species to the database, title it, ‘Forsaken’. Use the parameters of subject two as a definition.” She instructed.

 

The voice was silent for a moment, and then confirmed, “Species added to database as requested. Species for subject two confirmed as Forsaken. World of Origin, Azeroth. Approximate age...” Again, the voice paused, but then pronounced, “Approximate age, undefined. Subject two, candidacy valid. Do you wish to proceed with candidacy trials for both subjects and upon completion imprint their genetic markers on the _Lamna Clavia?_ ”

 

Zelda paused as the full implications of what she was doing came to her. If she confirmed the A.I.’s request, she could be potentially condemning her two friends and their descendents to the same fate as Link and herself. Did she have the right to make that choice for them?

 

 _Then I really would be playing goddess_. She thought to herself. _I don’t have the right to make that decision for them. Link and I chose this for our world. No one in Azeroth made that choice for this one. It is still our highest law to not interfere with an individual’s free will. That’s not a road I’m willing to go down._

 

She made her decision.

“Activate trial systems and stand by for my response.” Zelda told the A.I.

 

“Trial systems activated, awaiting further instructions, Lady Hylia.” Came the voice’s response.

 

* * *

 

Neither Gereth nor Shaggara were able to measure the passage of time as they sat near the stream that ran through the great chamber of trees. The Ancients and Tenders which guarded the room had not moved from their positions blocking passage to the doorway on the other side where their mysterious elven friend had gone.

 

“So, how long do we just sit here?” Gereth asked out loud, the impatience he felt evident in his voice.

 

“You are where you wanted to be, Gereth.” Shaggara told him. “What does it matter if it takes minutes more or hours?”

 

Gereth made a sound like a sigh. “You’re right, of course, my dear. It has taken me a long time to come this far. I can wait just a little longer. I just wonder what is keeping our nascent goddess princess. I don’t know about you, but I got the impression that if she wanted to, she could have obliterated our wooded friends here with a mere thought and walked straight through whatever else was guarding the Golden Flame with less than that.”

 

Shaggara was silent for a moment, her eyes reflective of the workings of her mind. “Shaggara believes there is more to it than that. Why, for example, if she is truly a goddess, did she not just remain in her glory? Why did she return to her simple mortal form almost immediately?”

 

“That is an excellent question, my dear.” Gereth agreed.

 

Off to their right, they heard the groaning and cracking of trees and wood again. Both turned their heads to see the huge, hulking tree figures and the smaller “Tenders” parting from their positions and opening up a gap. As they did, streaks of glowing blue light ran across the ceiling and around the white marble columns in geometric patterns that resembled devices Gereth had once seen a Gnome devising. The Gnome had called it a “circuit board”. The blue lines of light ran all the way across the ceiling and around the walls and then split off in opposite directions to the right and left of the chamber finally forming the shapes of roughly six or seven foot rectangles in the opposing walls that looked suspiciously like doorways.

 

They both stood up to observe this new development.

 

“What do you make of it?” Shaggara asked.

 

“I’m not sure. The magic looks somewhat mechanistic, like something a Gnome or Goblin would design if they were mages.” Gereth replied.

 

“Look.” Shaggara said as she gestured to the path which had opened up between the walking trees.

 

Gereth turned his head to see the young blond elven woman he had come to know over the last several days stepping with purpose through them. There was a confidence and a seriousness to her expression. He feared the insecure, somewhat goofy teenage girl he had come to know was gone forever, only to be replaced by this unknown and mysterious person called “Hylia.” The knowledge of this made him somewhat sad. He had liked the awkward, but personable princess. Secretly, she had reminded him of his lost sister.

 

She strode towards them, her shoulders erect, her eyes kind but filled with a purpose that seemed grave at best. He hands were empty as she kept them pressed together, folded across her midsection as she walked.

 

She came once more to stand in front of them.

 

Gereth could see few, if any traces of his princess in the woman that faced him now. He resigned himself to the loss of another whom he had come to care about. Though as he looked into Zelda’s eyes, he could see a compassion in them and a concern for he and Shaggara that gave him some hope.

 

“No luck?” He finally asked, somewhat flippantly.

 

A smile tugged at the corners of Zelda’s mouth and eyes, but she did not give into it.

 

“I was not born of this world.” She began to speak to them both. “I am a bearer of the Triforce for Hyrule, and my fate is bound to that realm. The _Anima_ of this temple will not permit me to retrieve or use the Golden Flame of Azeroth.”

 

“So that’s it? Thanks for trying?” Gereth reacted in some disbelief, disappointed.

 

“Shaggara does not believe Zelda is done speaking.” Shaggara spoke up, but quietly.

 

“Shaggara is right.” Zelda continued. “I am not able to use it, but someone born of this world who has proven to hold the three virtues of power, wisdom, and courage in balance within himself or herself may do so.”

 

“Someone born of this world, so you mean Shaggara then?” Gereth said.

 

“And you, Gereth.” Zelda told him.

 

Gereth’s dead, milky white eyes opened wide in surprise. “But I’m undead. How could this Anima thing ever find me worthy? Between the two of us, Shaggara is far more the hero than I ever could be.”

 

“That is to be determined by the trials.” Zelda told him evenly. “This is the only option for you to obtain and use the Golden Flame of Azeroth.”

 

Shaggara remained silent, contemplating what her friend was telling her.

 

“I must warn you. These trials will test you to your limits, and could cost you more than your life. And if you succeed, your fate, and the fate of your descendents may be tied to the Golden Flame and Azeroth just as mine is tied to Hyrule. It would be no shame, and only the ignorant would think less of you for walking away.” Zelda spoke solemnly and seriously. They both had to understand what was at stake. No matter what happened, what the outcome was, if they walked through the trial gates, they couldn’t take back the choice. They would both be irrevocably changed forever.

 

“More than my life...” Gereth repeated in a whisper, contemplating what those words would mean for him.

“The Triforce was created to defend a world against powerful immortal beings that might seek to enslave or destroy it, those you call titans or gods. It was designed by those in ancient times before the memory of this world in such a way so that it can only be used by mortals. Because it bestows the power and abilities of an immortal upon the one who wields it, that one must be found worthy. The three virtues must be in balance within the one who touches it or else it will sunder as the Triforce of Hyrule did.” Zelda held up her right hand, showing them the mark as a reminder. “A man who believed in power above all else touched it in my presence and the presence of the Hero and it was broken into its three pieces. I received Wisdom. The Hero, Courage. Are you willing to accept this burden?”

 

“I suppose I should have contemplated the implications of obtaining it long before now in my pursuit of the Golden Flame.” Gereth said out loud. “No divine relic comes without responsibility. I only wanted to use it to benefit this world as well as myself; to restore the balance, as it were, for all of us.”

 

Zelda nodded, but remained silent, waiting for their answers.

 

“Shaggara has seen much evil done in this world. Much wrong. Shaggara’s people have been responsible for it. Shaggara would see that balance restored and atone for her people’s sins. Shaggara will accept the burden and face the trials.” The orc woman warrior responded solemnly.

 

Zelda nodded, and then turned to face the undead mage.

 

“I only want to restore the balance of our world as well. There has been so much devastation. I want to see our world whole again. I will accept the burden. I will face the trials.” The mage replied.

 

A look of sadness passed over Zelda’s features, and then resignation as she nodded. She then announced into the air, “Proceed with the trials for Gereth and Shaggara.”

 

On opposite sides of the chamber, the scraping of stone against stone could be heard as stone slid open within the outlines of the rectangles of blue light.

 

“Trial gates activated.” Came a disembodied female voice.

 

Zelda stood facing her two friends, both arms were then raised, her hands gesturing to either open doorway.

 

“One question before we go, my dear, if you please?” Gereth asked.

 

“Yes?” Zelda answered, somewhat surprised.

 

“If you are a goddess, why go through all of this? Why not just use your own divine powers to overcome this Anima and the guardians?” Gereth asked his question.

 

“It is the condition of my protecting our world. I am reborn every generation to watch over Hyrule and protect it, but in so doing I must remain mortal and only use the powers available to a mortal. I may wield powerful magics, but not as a goddess. And in the passage of time, I must die and be reborn once more. So it is with the Hero as well.” Zelda explained.

 

“Is that our fate as well if we succeed?” Shaggara asked.

 

“I don’t know.” Zelda said honestly.

 

“Shaggara’s life that the world may be reborn.” Shaggara contemplated it. “So be it. For my people.” The orc woman concluded, and then without another word, she unstrapped her axe and marched toward the trial gate to Zelda’s left hand.

 

“Yes.” Gereth agreed. “So be it. For my sister. For everyone’s sisters.” He then turned and proceeded to the trial gate off to Zelda’s right.

 

As they walked away from Zelda and towards their fates, a tear rolled down her face as she lowered her arms.

 

* * *

 

Link crept cautiously through the desolate port town. The Master Sword and shield he carried were in his hands. The absolute silence except for the warm, fetid breeze sent chills down his spine. The stench was overpowering to his Hylian nose, he dared not shift to animal form unless absolutely necessary else it become paralyzing to him. A thick coating of slimy residue coated almost every step he took.

 

As he made his way on to the docks, he found what no one could see from the ship; bones. Pieces of whole skeletons littered the ground disconnected from one another as though something had dissolved every ounce of flesh and left them clean. Bones from humans, bones from gryphons and horses, and bones from beings who were clearly not human all littered the ground haphazardly in piles as though they had just been dumped into place and left.

 

Images, flashes of memories rushed across his conscious mind from within the deeper parts of his mind as he moved from the docks to the streets of the town, and then began searching from building to building.

 

He found nothing alive. In one house, he found the remains of what looked to have been a human adult, though he could tell nothing else, mingled with the remains of a small feline animal. He wondered what that person’s story had been. He wondered what all of their stories had been, what their lives had been like.

 

And the more he wondered and imagined, the angrier he became.

 

Yes, he had seen this before, in Castle Town centuries ago. Good people that he had known and met just “gone”.

 

Link’s sharp ears then caught a rustling coming from down an alleyway, and then a slight banging and scraping noise as though something was being moved. Swiftly and silently he rushed to where he thought the sound was being made.

 

There, in the alley and bent over a large crate was a humanoid person encased in heavily padded, bluish mail and plate armor from head to toe. The top of the wooden crate was open. A wooden slat which Link presumed to be the original top piece lay to the side.

 

Link watched the person silently, drawing on life energies of the night stalking cat to be as quiet and stealthy as possible. The person’s armor scraped a bit as he rummaged through the crate, though the intruder took nothing out of it.

 

“Damn.” The unknown soldier said. “Nothing.”

 

“Who are you?” Link then asked, revealing himself. There was something wrong with this person’s presence in this place. Link knew he shouldn’t have been alive.

 

The soldier turn his helmeted head to look in Link’s direction. “A Blood elf?” He exclaimed in surprise, but not hostility. “How are you alive?”

 

Link stared at the soldier’s face. What might have been human at one time was now in the early stages of decomposition and appeared to be tinged blue. His eyes under the helmet were dead and milky white. His face, from what Link could see was crisscrossed with metal bands, the purpose of which he couldn’t determine. But Link understood all too well what this soldier was.

 

He was undead, and he was the enemy.

 

Link raised his shield into a fighting stance and brought his sword into a position ready to strike. But then something else was not right. The creatures weapon remained strapped to his back, and the undead monster just stared at him strangely.

 

“What are you doing? Did this blight rattle your brains? We’re on the same side, fool.” The creature exclaimed. “How did you survive this? Nothing living survived it, just us and the Ebon Blade knights. Where did you come from?”

 

 _It knows something._ Link reasoned. He lowered his weapons a little. “I just came off a ship at the docks. I’ve got a relic that protects me. What’s happened here?” He asked.

 

“We didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking! This isn’t like over in Hillsbrad! It’s not our blight!” The creature told him, raising his voice defensively. “We lost a lot of good fighters among the living over the last few days. Alliance lost everyone here in Northrend. Those of us who are left have been crisscrossing the continent on deathchargers and skeletal gryphons trying to make contact with our outposts and assess the situation. So far, it’s just us now. Well, us and you.”

 

 _This must be a Horde soldier_. Link realized. He remembered McBride mentioning the undead that had allied with the Horde. _He thinks I’m one of the Horde_ _too._

 

“Then who did it?” Link asked genuinely.

 

“We don’t know.” The Soldier answered. “All we know is that it began in Dalaran, but no one’s been able to get up there to get any answers. This is the last place I’m checking before I return to my own people. We thought it had stopped, but I saw the harbor not long ago. It’s still spreading. At this rate, it’ll reach Tirisfal Glades and Winterspring by the end of the week. It won’t affect my people, but the living...” The creature gestured towards the bones which were scattered. “You’ve seen what it does. I don’t care that much for the living, but I don’t like the thought of this just killing everything it touches. If my people had designed it, it would have at least turned most of them into more of us. Dead, yeah, but still here. Can you get word down to Silvermoon or the Undercity? There may be alchemists and mages there who can take a fresh look at it. We need to find some way of stopping it before it leaves the entire world like this.”

 

Link tried to digest what the undead monster was telling him through both his words and his concerns. It didn’t sound like a mindless zombie. It didn’t sound like a monster at all. Link lowered his sword the rest of the way.

 

“I can try.” He finally said.

 

The undead soldier nodded. “I’ve got to get back to my rendezvous point and compare notes, but I’m pretty sure the others won’t be telling me any different stories. Do what you can. Warn the south. We need all the help we can get up here.”

 

The soldier gave Link a quick salute and then took off down the alleyway. Link watched him go. Then, realizing his hour was almost up, he leaped into the air taking flight form and sped back to the _Maiden’s Virtue_ with his new information.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

Shaggara found herself in green living fen of marshes. It smelled earthy and pungent. Her booted feet sank into spongy soft moss and mud. Nearby, pools of water collected and surrounded her and mangrove trees grew up out of the water. Off in the distance in nearly all directions, barely visible for the thick foliage, red tinged mountains rose up majestically from the earth. A great tall spire of rock like a natural tower jutted up from the center of the marshland like a silent sentinal and reached high into the sky.

 

Not far from where she stood, axe in hand, a large log and wood board cabin stood on a larger island in the midst of the marsh. A rough road had been cut through the marsh and ran close by the house. Good sized pigs meandered somewhat aimlessly within a wooden fenced pen. The scene was rugged and rustic, appealing to her orcish cultural sensibilities. It reminded her somewhat of her own small pig farm in Durotar, and made her long to return to her solitary, yet peaceful life.

 

Except this wasn’t Durotar. She recognized the landscape, though just barely. It had been many, many years since she had been here. And when she had seen it then, it had been much, much changed, and not for the better. The last time she had been here, it had been a scorched red desert inhabited only by scorpids, jackals, and much worse things.

 

She was in the region of the southeastern continent she knew as “the Blasted Lands.” But she had never seen it this verdant or alive in all of her life. Shaggara had assumed that it had never been other than the desolate, demon infested hellhole that all in her generation knew it to be.

 

“What has happened here?” She asked aloud. And then it struck her. “Shaggara knows where she is, but not when.”

 

A human woman with reddish blond hair came out of the cabin. She wore a simple blue linen dress with an apron and thick brown leather boots which came up to her knees, practical for working in this kind of an environment. Her belly was round and obviously heavy with child. Following behind her was a small red headed child in nothing but similar blue shorts and bare feet, no more than three years old, Shaggara guessed. The woman picked up a bucket and started towards the sheep pen. The little one followed after her.

 

Shaggara’s well muscled, calloused green skinned grip tightened around the handle of her axe upon sight of the human woman. The orc woman neither liked nor trusted humans. Memories of humiliations and abuses at the hands of humans in the internment camps rushed through her mind.

 

The grip on her axe became tighter as those memories became clearer, and more painful.

 

“Shaggara doesn’t understand. What is the trial to be?” She asked aloud again as she continued to watch the human woman do very normal, everyday chores for a frontier life. Was she to slay the woman and her child?

 

 _No!_ Her reaction was visceral and powerful at the thought. She had grown up without her mother or father. And though she had never given birth, yet she had felt her own maternal instincts come alive when with the children at the orphanage. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t bring herself to leave the child motherless, or the mother childless, human or not.

 

 _Monster!_ How often had the guards called her that as a child herself, not more than a few years older than the little one down there. She had been confused and angry then, and those feelings struck her deeply again.

 

But Shaggara had sworn she would not let the guard tell her who she was, and who she wasn’t. Not then, and not now.

 

“If this is your test, I will not do it.” She announced quietly.

 

As Shaggara watched and wrestled with herself, the woman stopped at a shed, opened it, and then began scooping something into the bucket. When she was done, she took the bucket over to the pig pen, and dumped the contents into a feeding trough. After this, she stood up straight and watched as the pigs scrambled to the trough to feast on their meal. Then she began to look around her, taking in the quiet, living beauty of the marshes.

 

As she turned around to see her chosen home spread out before her, the woman’s eyes fell on Shaggara, and she screamed, “William! Roland get in the house! William! Orc! Orc!”

 

Instantly a man with dark red hair burst out of the house. A hunting rifle was in his hands, though he was visibly shaking with it. Shaggara watched him with an experienced warrior’s eye, and more importantly, watched the direction in which the solid metal barrel of the weapon was pointed.

 

He pointed the rifle at Shaggara and fired once. The pellet screamed towards her, but her own battle reflexes began to react before her mind did, processing the trigger pull unconsciously. The fired pellet missed her just off to her right, as the orc warrior woman easily dodged to the left. Her axe remained in her hand, and her battle instincts nearly took over as she geared up to throw it.

 

But then she caught herself as she once again remembered the child, and her own fatherless childhood. She wouldn’t condemn another child to that fate if she could help it. She brought her battle rage which had flared under control and lowered her axe, though kept it in her hand.

 

“Get out of here!” The man yelled, his voice cracking in a high pitch and dripping with fear. “Or the next one won’t miss!” He threatened as ominously as he could under the circumstances. Even from that distance, the orc warrior could see the man trembling, and sweating profusely.

 

 _Shaggara seriously doubts that_. She thought to herself.

 

The man may have hunted game here in the marshes, but he was no warrior, and the sight of Shaggara had clearly frightened him. Even with a gun, he was no threat to her, and she knew it. If it hadn’t been for her restraint, he would have already been dead on the ground, her axe jutting from his split skull.

 

She replaced the axe on her belt, and kept a wary eye on the man, but did not move either towards him, or away. She held her empty hands out to her side, not in a threatening manner, but ready in case she needed to use them.

 

 _No, there must be something more here._ She thought. _He is more of a danger to himself than he is to Shaggara, still a fool with a gun may cause more harm than even he intends._

 

With this last thought in mind, Shaggara made a great show of backing up and retreating behind the trunk of a large tree where she was certain he would not see her. She then picked up a stone from the ground and threw it far in the direction behind her where it struck against ferns and marsh foliage. She did so a second time in rapid succession to a farther distance, hopefully leading the hapless human settler to believe she had run away through the foliage. The trick had worked occasionally with clueless would be warriors.

 

 _Like any true orc warrior would run from this_. She snorted in derision. A weak human couple wasn’t worth a true warrior’s time.

 

She became as still as a statue and listened intently to the noisy human.

 

“It’s gone, Clarisse. Damn, I’ve never seen one before, but Captain Harrison warned us these things had been raiding the homesteads farther south. It looked just like he’d described too, though not as big as he said.” The man said, talking loudly.

 

“What do you think it wanted, William?” A woman’s higher, though rough voice asked, her voice tinged with a panic.

 

“I don’t know. No one knows.” William replied.

 

“Maybe it’s time we went to stay with my parents in Elwyn where it’s safe. You know mother’s written for us to come stay with them until the army gets control of whatever these orc things are.” The woman exclaimed.

 

The man said something which Shaggara couldn’t hear, and the woman reacted with a loud huff, “How could you say that?” She asked loudly.

 

Then their conversation became quieter and more distant, and Shaggara believed they had gone into the cabin. She risked a careful look around the tree, and saw that, indeed, the humans were nowhere to be seen at the moment.

 

If her current situation hadn’t been so serious, Shaggara might have been amused and even laughed at the absurdity of the two humans out here by themselves.

 

She came out from behind the tree and watched the cabin for a few more minutes. It seemed William and Clarisse had decided to remain indoors for the time being. Perhaps they thought by so doing, the “dangerous orc threat” they faced would somehow no longer exist.

 

Shaggara shook her head sadly.

 

And then something upwind caught her attention and her eyes fixed on the direction in which that breeze was coming from. It was a very familiar smell; the natural, and powerful musk of orc males. It fixed her attention securely and intoxicatingly, and began to quicken her heartbeat and start her blood coursing faster. It had been some time since she had experienced it firsthand.

 

As she fixed her attention down the road, she saw four warriors of her people. One of them, a large muscular warrior with strong features road on the back of a great black riding worg. That one was clearly a male and to her liking. One was an orc woman like herself carrying a similar battleaxe to her own, and then there were two more large muscular males. All were armed for battle. The looks on their faces were dark and hostile. She could tell the bloodlust was upon them from even that distance.

 

And then she saw which direction they were heading.

 

It was the human settlers’ cabin.

 

The scouting party in the thrall of the bloodlust wouldn’t distinguish between warriors and farmers, combatants and innocents. They would just slaughter them, and leave nothing but death in their wake.

 

These were her people. As they came closer, she could tell from the sigils they bore, they were even from her own Warsong clan. They were her own blood kin.

 

Then the memory of the human child flashed through her mind.

 

Her feet began to run before she had even finished processing her thought as to what she would do. She ran furiously towards her kinsmen to hold them off and redirect them elsewhere. Surely there was a military target somewhere around here that was more worth their time as warriors. She had no qualms about them hurling themselves at armored soldiers that would bring glory and honor with the kill.

 

“Hold!” She cried out as she neared them.

 

The four turned their heads as one in her direction and she could see their eyes blazing the red of the demonic taint. Would they even listen to her?

 

“Hold!” She cried out again. “These weaklings aren’t worthy of you, mighty warriors! There is no honor to be found, only human pigs for the slaughter!” She told them as she approached.

 

“Who are you, woman?” The warrior on the back of the wolf addressed her with disdain. “You have the look of one of our kin, but wear nothing to honor your clan with!”

 

 _This just became complicated_. She thought.

 

“Shaggara is Warsong! Shaggara wants to keep you her kinsmen from dishonor!” She repeated again.

 

“ _I_ will determine what brings honor to the Warsong clan, and what does not, woman.” The orc warrior replied with contempt for her.

 

The warrior female who had come with the party spat in the ground at Shaggara’s feet. “We fight to rid this land of these vermin for our people!” She declared. “This is our homeland now, wretch. If you are Warsong, prove yourself by slaughtering them and joining us!”

 

The woman looked uncomfortably familiar to Shaggara, like a ghost from her past, though she did not recognize the look of contempt or disdain in her eyes. She fought hard to remember the woman.

 

 _Who is she? Why does Shaggara know her?_ She thought quickly, trying to come up with a name.

 

“Just run the wretch through, wife, and be done with her.” The orc on wolfback told her. “It’s obvious she doesn’t have the stomach of a true warrior, to do what needs to be done to save our people.”

 

“I hope my daughter isn’t as weak as you, wretch.” The warrior female spat again.

 

_Daughter?_

 

Shaggara’s world then began to spin and she felt paralyzed. She knew where and when she was. She did know this woman. She also knew the warrior on wolfback. They were the first people to press a knife into her hand and chart her destiny as a warrior of her people from the time she could walk.

 

_No, this isn’t right! That’s not possible! They were killed in battle by human soldiers!_

 

_Mother? Father?_

 

A tear ran down her cheek as she then understood what her trial was. She was all that stood between the slaughter of innocents that would kill her in ignorance and the two warriors who gave her life.

 

“A tear! You shame yourself, wretch. You are no Warsong. You aren’t even Orc. You are nothing!” The woman taunted her.

 

The image of the child and the pregnant mother seemed to float across Shaggara’s spinning vision and the fog and haze in her mind began to clear. The tears would not cease flowing, and streamed down her greenish brown cheeks as she unstrapped both axes which hung from her waist and held them in a battle stance.

 

“ _I_ will not permit you to slaughter children or innocents! _I_ will not dishonor our family’s name in this way!” She spat at the woman’s feet. “You are no kin of mine!” Shaggara shouted, the rage fueled by intense, almost unbearable pain rising within her.

 

The rage within her nearly exploded until she harnessed it and used it to focus every sense and every muscle in her body and her warrior’s reflexes responded accordingly.

 

“For the Horde!!!” She bellowed her war cry and launched herself at her parents and their comrades.

 

Instantly she felt pain in her side, and wet liquid began to spill down her waist. The woman warrior dodged her attack and spun with an attack of her own, opening up a slice across Shaggara’s side through her leather tunic.

 

The Orc warrior woman ignored the pain and spun counter to the female who just barely ducked in time to avoid a beheading. But what her reflexes hadn’t counted on was Shaggara’s second twin battle axe as it followed the first on a lower trajectory. It bit into the woman’s neck and blood spurted across Shaggara’s injured side, mingling with her own which flowed from her side.

 

“Kageeri!” The warrior on wolfback yelled out his wife’s name as her corpse dropped to the ground.

 

Shaggara did not wait as her next frenzied attack struck towards the great black worg upon which her father rode. She closed her eyes and her heart to her earliest memories, choosing not to see the big furry animal she had known and rode with the rider now seated in her youngest childhood as the animal began snapping at her with lupine fangs.

 

Several times those fangs found their purchase, and blood began to weep from her shoulders and arms, but she would not yield to the pain or the loss of blood. Her battleraged senses then warned her of a blade whistling through the air and aimed for her back and she side stepped out of its way just in time to see an axe embed itself into the worg’s head, sending the beast into death spasms and tumbling its rider to the ground.

 

Shaggara let out a great cry of anguish, “Arrrgghhh!!!” As she continued her assault.

 

Her axes whirled around her, finding purchase again and again, even as the blades of daggers found theirs in her own flesh. But she would not yield. Not for a moment. She refused to allow the thought of what she was doing to enter her mind. The pain and rage that rushed through her kept it mercifully empty and focused on the task at hand.

 

She thrust her right axe out at the merest sound and caught the blade of an opponents with it, at the same time swinging her left around and removing the hand that held the attacking weapon. She heard a gutteral scream of pain and anger. She could not stop and consider that she may have just maimed her father.

 

Her wounds began to take their toll as she became dizzy, and her movements sluggish. The marshy ground beneath her ran crimson with the blood which was spilled across it. She went down on one knee, and her axe became too heavy for her to hold.

 

 _Let this be the end then._ She thought. _If this is my trial, let the world know that Shaggara died so there would be one less orphan in Azeroth._

 

She closed her eyes and waited for the warrior’s blow which would send her on to whatever afterlife awaited her.

 

But it didn’t come.

 

As her world began to fade in and out, she opened her eyes to see four emerald Orc bodies and a riding worg dead around her. In spite of this, she felt no victory. In her heart she knew that at least one child, a little Orc girl, would never see her parents return home to her. And though she didn’t know how it was possible, now she knew why.

 

Exhausted, her world began to fade. She had no more tears left to cry as she prepared to let the darkness take her there in the swamp.

 

Then she heard a footstep behind her, and the cocking of a rifle’s hammer.

 

She slowly turned her head, almost passing out just from the effort.

 

The human settler, the father, stood behind her as she knelt in the congealing blood and muddied road. His rifle was pointed at her head. It was so close, even he couldn’t miss this time. And the truth was, she didn’t know if she wanted him to.

 

Instead of drawing back, she rested her forehead on the muzzle of the weapon. It felt good to not have to support it.

 

“Go ahead.” She said. “Your family is safe. Mine is dead.”

 

Then she felt the barrel of the gun fall away from her head and she nearly went down with it in surprise. She finally began to feel the blackness closing in on her. The last thing her senses told her was that the man was yelling for his wife again, “Clarisse! Bring some bandages and some of that healing potion your uncle makes! Hurry! Just hang in there lady Orc. I don’t know exactly what happened here, but you better believe the McBrides don’t let their debts go unpaid.”

 

And then all was darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

 

Zelda, standing in front of the bronze pedestal, watched the scene helplessly as it displayed, being projected in three dimensions across a mist in front of her. The researcher that she had been in another life chided her for her lack of detachment with the experiment, but the woman that she had become, informed by almost ten thousand years of loves, joys, pains, and losses; that woman’s heart ached to see Shaggara so broken physically and emotionally.

 

She could do nothing to interfere or help her friend, even as she knew the Orc woman was dying from the wounds she sustained. But the physical wounds would be nothing compared to the truth Shaggara would now carry with her for the rest of her existence, no matter how long that would be. It was a truth from which Zelda would have chosen to spare her even if Hylia would not have.

 

The Hylian princess had no control over the trials, she could only observe. The A.I. dug into their minds and memories to weigh what would be most effective in demonstrating what kind of a person each was. It was important that the person be allowed to make these decisions for themselves. It was the outcome of these crises that determined their worthiness to make use of the Triforce. It was an important and character defining event.

 

As she watched, the human man, true to his word, repaid the debt he owed Shaggara by administering a bright, cherry red healing potion into her unconscious lips and washing her wounds with it the best he could before binding them with strips of mageweave cloth, the magical properties of which went to work on her deep injuries immediately.

 

The noble warrior would live, and for that the Hylian princess was grateful.

 

Above the scene she watched, a clock was counting down. When it reached zero, she knew that Shaggara would be returned to this temple in the present, left to wonder whether it was all real or just an illusion. She hoped though that the Orc woman’s trial would be complete and the A.I. satisfied after what she had just endured.

 

Next to the three dimensional image of her friend being tended to was another image, also with a timer hovering over it. This one was of another dear friend of hers, himself facing a test for which he was not prepared. She said a prayer to whatever true deity might exist that he would make it through.

 

In Zelda’s opinion, Shaggara had demonstrated all three of the virtues in balance well; Wisdom in knowing who was her enemy and who wasn’t, Courage in standing against her own family in defense of the humans, and Power in her ability to hold back the bloodthirsty warriors and stop the slaughter of the innocents. Surely this was enough?

 

Shaggara’s timer counted down to zero, and her unconscious form disappeared from the care of the McBrides at their homestead. The projected image which she had been watching on the mist fell away and the A.I.’s voice announced, “Subject one, Shaggara. Trial complete. Bio-status, alive.”

 

Zelda then waited for what seemed like an eternity for the system’s analysis.

 

“Trial results, worthy.” The voice said, matter of factly.

 

Zelda let out an audible sigh of relief. Shaggara would likely remain unconscious for a good while longer, but she was no longer in any danger.

 

She then turned her attention to the remaining projection as another timer counted down to zero. The trial Gereth had undergone had been similarly traumatic, though this one had been an illusion and did not involve the time-shift technology which Shaggara had faced. Instead, drawn entirely from Gereth’s own memories, it had involved his sister and the plague which had taken her life. Gereth had been forced to watch his sister die again, being given the choice to ensure her transformation into a being like himself, or to die as she did in reality. He had demonstrated his wisdom born of hard, painful experience in allowing her to pass away rather than suffer the existence he had been cursed with.

 

Zelda didn’t know Gereth could still shed tears as a walking corpse, though she watched him do just that over his sister’s lifeless body. Still, he would not change her fate.

 

But in watching the trial, Zelda feared that it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the A.I.

 

Her fears were soon proved right.

 

* * *

 

Gereth had buried his decrepit face in his hands as he sat sobbing with great, gut wrenching sobs on the polished wooden floorboards of the upstairs bedroom in his family’s home in Andorhal. Salty liquid had poured from dead tear ducts in his equally dead eyes and run down the greenish flesh of his cheeks which were frozen in an early stage of decomposition.

 

In front of him, on a mattress lined with linen sheets covered in infectious bile and uncontrolled human waste lay the still warm, unmoving corpse of his little sister whom he had been forced to watch cease to be once again. Her spasms had finally stopped, and her pain had gone. He had brushed her beautiful blond hair with his skeletal fingers, and it now lay flat and away from her face. With his dead, bony finger tips, he had closed her sapphire blue eyes for the second time.

 

In his lap sat a vial of concentrated plague which might have given her a chance at existence beyond death. It remained carefully sealed, and he intended to destroy it. He would not do that to her. He would not condemn any living soul to his own fate ever again. He swore it on the death of the nameless little girl from Hillsbrad years ago. He loved his sister. He loved her enough to let her go on to a better world, even if it meant his own continued without her.

 

He did not regret his choice, but that knowledge did not make the fresh wounds hurt any less.

 

When he had finally regained control of himself, which took no little time, he looked up from his seated position only to find the house around him, his sister, and everything else gone. The scene around him had changed completely.

 

“What fresh hell is this?” Gereth asked quietly as he looked around himself.

 

His parents’ home in Andorhal had been replaced with the streets of the mage’s city, Dalaran. But it was a Dalaran that he did not know. This Dalaran was darkened. The sky above it was filled with black and angry clouds through which unnatural lightning flashed back and forth in constant conflict.

 

He picked himself up off the cobblestone pavement of the street and quickly surveyed the scene. He was not far, just down the street from the Alliance friendly inn and tavern “A Hero’s Welcome.” But he saw no one on the streets, which was nearly impossible. There was always someone wandering around the streets of the mage’s city at all hours of the day or night. The floating city never slept.

 

“What happened here? Is this real? Or another illusion?” He asked himself.

 

He had worked out that the previous event had been an illusion, probably drawn from his own mind, albeit a terribly accurate and painful one. As far as he knew, he wouldn’t have done anything differently had he really been given that kind of a choice.

 

Seeing where he was, he began to make his way away from the Alliance friendly area of town and up towards the buildings and towers that serviced his own people’s faction. It wasn’t long before he spotted the bones which littered the streets. Bones and a thick ooze which was reminiscent of the liquified plague lay in piles seemingly at random. He made a quick study of various piles of the skeletal remains. One pile was that of a Night Elf’s skeleton, another was of an Orc, still several more were human. No flesh remained at all on the bones, not muscle, not ligament, nothing to hold them together.

 

“This wasn’t my people’s work.” He said, reasoning through the problem aloud. “Our plague canisters aren’t meant to completely dissolve but to add to our own population. But if it wasn’t my people, who would do such a thing?”

 

The list of culprits whom he knew of was short. Very short. The Lich King had been defeated and replaced by a more honorable and amiable gentleman, as he understood it. His people would only use this kind of attack to add to their numbers, and Dalaran was a sanctuary, useful to both Horde and Alliance, protected by treaty. His queen wouldn’t attack here. There was no logic to it.

 

That left the Burning Legion and their demon masters. They would have no qualms about this kind of assault. But as he continued to turn his eyes this way and that around the streets, he saw no evidence of the presence of demons, at least not yet. That was unusual for them. Usually there would be the little imps, stonelike infernals, and towering fel guards walking the streets looking for more victims. The silence of death wasn’t their normal modus operandi.

 

He carefully made his way towards his old master’s laboratory and lodgings. The building in which they were housed was a narrow spire of tower on the northeast side of the city. As far as Gereth could see, all of the structures and towers of the mage’s city were still intact. The weapon of attack, so far, was isolated to biological destruction.

 

As he passed into the Horde friendly area of town, as he took in as much information about the newly changed city as he could, he noticed a pair of eyes set into a bluish, somewhat human face watching him from in between the curtains of a lower story window. They were as dead and milky white as his own. In spite of their deadness, they were following him. The next thing he saw from the window was a skeletal hand wordlessly beckoning him from between the same curtains.

 

Looking this way and that along the street to see if there were any more pairs of eyes he should be concerned with, though as a mage he knew one didn’t have to be physically present to observe a scene if they wished, he discreetly made for the doorway adjacent to the window, and pushed open the door, letting himself in.

 

The interior rooms of the building were just as dark and gloomy as the outside he observed as he shut the door quietly behind him. But here there were no piles of bones, none on the floor at any rate. The interior reminded him of the preferred, tomblike decorations of his deathly kindred.

 

“How did you get here, brother?” A raspy, nasal voice asked. “I don’t recognize you.”

 

Gereth turned to meet his new host. The being he saw was much like himself, except the man’s beard was longer and more ragged. His decaying skin was bluish tinged instead of Gereth’s own sickly green, and his long hair tied back into a ponytail looked to be a violent, dark shade of purple, an unfortunate consequence of the plague decay on dark haired individuals. He might have guessed the man to have been in his early forties when the plague took him.

 

“I’m not certain myself, brother.” Gereth responded, using the same familiar term all the Forsaken used with each other. Since their own blood kin had forsaken them, they were the only family each other had. That made the two undead men in the room brothers of a kind. “It has been a long time since I called Dalaran home, many years in fact.”

 

“All the portals in and out of Dalaran have refused to open.” The other man said. “Did you come by skeletal gryphon? Is it still here? Does the outside world know what’s happened here?”

 

“What has happened here, brother?” Gereth asked sincerely. “This isn’t our doing, but who else would attack in this way?”

 

“Of course it wasn’t us!” The other man, a mage by his dark violet robes, snapped angrily. “But you know that won’t matter to the living when their loved ones don’t come home, now will it? This dissolving plague kills friend and foe alike, everyone except us.”

 

The other mage gestured with his hands violently as he spoke, his anger and his fears were evident.

 

“It started from the Blood Elf’s tower, Duazhen, and spread outwards. Our people watched as it took the living. At first we thought it would leave them and add to our numbers, but then their corpses dissolved leaving nothing of use except the bones! What good are just bones without flesh and sinews? No brain, no muscle, nothing for the soul to cling to and rise with.” The undead mage said.

 

Gereth noted what he said, and feared for his old master. They had argued, even severely, but he still owed a debt of gratitude to the elf for teaching him.

 

“Why are you hiding in your rooms?” Gereth then asked. “Did no one investigate?”

 

The other mage looked at him as though he were a dullard. “Of course we did!” He responded. “That’s why we’re all in hiding. Even so… Even so, he still calls to us.”

 

 _He?_ Gereth asked himself silently. _No, that can’t be. Arthas is dead, and another took his place. Did this new Lich King free himself from the ice and start a new war on the living?_

 

“Don’t you hear him calling to you? Ugh, it’s maddening.” The undead mage hit the side of his head hard. “The temptations, and the smooth flattery, it’s enough to make one vomit.”

 

“I hear nothing.” Gereth said to him. “Certainly not like before.”

 

“No, no, no,” the mage said waving his hand dismissively. “This is nothing like before. Arthas was powerful, yes, but he was still just a man. No, this is the voice of a god calling us to serve him.”

 

 _What god would call the und…?_ Gereth began to ask himself, and then almost as soon as he did, he got his answer and his eyes went wide with understanding.

 

_But how? How could he have entered the world without our knowing about it?_

 

The other mage picked up on Gereth’s new insight. “Yes, you understand now, don’t you? But I won’t have him. I don’t know any of us that would. We were slaves once before. Never again. He can put me to the flames if he wants.”

 

“What of Duazhen?” Gereth then asked him. “He was my teacher once upon a time, I owe him for that at least.”

 

“Likely he’s slime and bones now, like all the rest of the living.” The mage responded brusquely. “You really don’t know how you got here?” He then asked again.

 

“No. The last place I remember being was...” He had to stop himself from revealing everything, but he needn’t lie either, “Andorhal.” He finally said. It was, after all, the truth. “I was sitting in a house there one minute, and the next I found myself in the street outside.”

 

The other mage’s eyes then seemed to wander as he considered this new information. “Perhaps your old master is still alive in the tower. Perhaps he unleashed something he couldn’t control. Blood Elves are like that. Arrogant, always in the pursuit of more mana and damn the consequences. Serves him right, but it damns the rest of us. Who knows if this blight has spread past the city or not. No one’s been able to leave to find out.”

 

Gereth’s mind started working again. He had argued with his master over the “legend” of the Golden Flame and the pursuit of it. The argument had become so heated that Gereth left to pursue the line of research on his own while his master accused him of succumbing to the undead brain rot. Before he left, the Blood Elf practically threw the Paladin’s journal at the undead mage calling it a “damn book of fairy tales” he was wasting his extraordinary gifts on. It had hurt to be ridiculed like that for the hope the Golden Flame gave him. Duazhen cared little for the feelings of others, Blood Elf or otherwise. His mistress had always been the magic, and the power that it brought.

 

But Gereth had been right all along. He knew that now. The argument was a moot point. Once Gereth had told him what he had found, he was certain he could have reconciled with his teacher who had taught him so much. He owed it to the Sindorei mage to learn of his fate, and if possible, try and rescue him from this new threat.

 

“My thanks to you, brother. I wish I could tell you how I got here, and how to leave, but I don’t know myself. But if Maester Duazhen was in the center of all this, I owe it to him to find out.” Gereth told his fellow mage, and then made to leave.

 

“Fool! Stay away from that tower, or you’ll draw _his_ attention!” The mage responded. “We don’t owe the living anything!”

 

“I do.” Gereth replied quietly, and then left the mage’s dwelling.

 

Back out on the street, he headed north towards the spire which had been his own home for several years. As it rose in front of him, he reached into his red robes and retrieved a length of wood which had been carved with runes of arcane power.

 

He stood before the tower’s entry steps observing the entry itself. It was a set of double doors carved from an expensive wood imported from Hyjal, near the current Well of Eternity. The scene on the doors was that of an elven mage drawing mana from the well and releasing it to devastating effect.

 

Gereth passed his hand over the doors expecting a spell of protection or barrier of some kind, but strangely there was nothing. That was unlike his former master.

 

He placed his foot on the steps cautiously, but the marble, highlighted with gold and rose colored stone, remained just that. There was no trap or response. He proceeded up the steps and placed his gloved hand on the door handle. Again, it was just a door handle.

 

Suspicious and wary, he opened the door to the tower and went inside.

 

The inside entryway of the tower was lit by greenish glowing globes set into the walls which he knew ran the entire height of the tower. They were the preferred method of interior lighting for his former master because they were easier on the eyes than a harsh, bright light. As he went even further in to the central stairs, a voice started whispering in his mind.

 

_Your power is impressive, mage._

 

The voice was smooth and deep. It reminded Gereth of a spell components merchant he had once had the displeasure of meeting. Gereth ignored it.

 

_Imagine what we could do together, you and I, if only you would abandon this foolish quest of yours._

 

“Not interested.” He said aloud as he observed the interior and tried to think.

 

His master’s laboratory was at the top of the tower. If he wasn’t in his own apartments within the tower, or his library researching something, he was up there. Normally, it was easily accessible by teleporting directly there. But now, Gereth didn’t bother trying. If the portals wouldn’t work here, it stood to reason that teleporting one’s self wouldn’t either.

 

_Really? What about your desire to undo that nasty condition of yours? It could be possible if you serve me._

 

“Go back to the twisting nether, demon lord.” Gereth said dismissively in disgust.

 

But the voice wouldn’t stop. The further in he went, the more insistent it became. And with the voice came also feelings of power and control as the owner of the voice tried to tempt and woo him.

 

As Gereth began to search from room to room the hard way, he also found himself at war with his own intentions and desires.

 

 _What do I owe the living anyway?_ The thought raced through his mind, masquerading under his own internal voice. It was very convincing, except Gereth knew his own, lifeless heart. He knew what debts he owed to living beings like Shaggara, and Duazhen, and even the mysterious elven woman, Zelda who reminded him so much of his sister until she had revealed herself.

 

_Zelda? Zelda is here?_

 

 _Fool!_ Gereth chided himself for not guarding his heart and mind more carefully. The discipline of one’s mind was the first and most basic practice of the mage. One could not control the powerful forces that magic unleashed without first bringing under control the raging storm that was the mortal mind.

 

_You know, mage! Tell me where the Hylian bitch is now!_

 

“Rot in the void, demon.” Gereth said as he moved in and out of the rooms on the first floor. He threw up barriers and walls in his mind, and emptied it of all else as his masters had taught him. If the demon was still listening in, he was being treated to a serenade of Lordaeron nursery rhymes.

 

_TELL ME, WRETCH!!!_

 

Gereth couldn’t afford to analyze the demon lord’s interest as his voice blazed wrath and fiery threats at him. But one thing he knew without having to bring it to his conscious mind was that the demon lord wouldn’t attempt to destroy him as long as Gereth had information that he didn’t. It would be a dangerous game of power that he played, but if he wanted to learn the fate of his master, he would need to continue it for as long as he could.

 

So far, he found no piles of bones, elven or otherwise anywhere on the first floor. This didn’t surprise him. Unless he had an apprentice, Duazhen preferred to use magic elementals as his minions, believing them to be far more reliable.

 

_So, you’re searching for that idiot elf mage? Let me make your search easier for you._

 

The voice had dropped all pretense of cooperation or admiration. It now dripped with malice and contempt. Gereth had no idea what it meant, though he didn’t like the feeling it brought.

 

As he was just about to mount the steps to climb the tower, a cloud of purple and black energies suddenly appeared across the stair chamber from him. It then just as suddenly disappeared leaving a familiar elven shape behind.

 

“Maester Duazhen?” Gereth asked, tentatively as he observed him.

 

 _Something’s not right._ He thought to himself. _He doesn’t look well._

 

_I’ll leave you two alone to be “reacquainted.”_

 

Then the sound of the voice laughing heavily filled the stairwell, echoing up and down the chamber. It was an evil, vile laugh. The laugh of a cruel, twisted sadist about to be entertained.

 

“Maester?” Gereth asked again. The figure in front of him hadn’t moved.

 

“ _Pyrbole!”_ A raspy elven voice called out in the ancient tongue of magic, similar to his old master’s but harsher, as though from the throat of an undead like himself.

 

Gereth’s battle instincts kicked in as he raised a wall of ice in front of him, dampening and blocking the fireball which had been thrown at him.

 

“Maester stop! It’s Gereth!” Gereth shouted at him as the last remnants of the fiery ball died in the melting shield.

 

In response, bolts of raw magical power shot for Gereth’s position and he dodged to the side throwing out patterns of force to redirect them off to his left. As Gereth landed in his new position he caught a better look at his old master in the green light of the globes.

 

His master was dead like himself.

 

“Holy Light...” Gereth swore. It wasn’t often he invoked the divine goodness, but no other words would come to him.

 

Already, Gereth could hear the arcane chanting of another attack coming. Whoever or whatever was controlling the frame of Duazhen, Gereth knew his master was gone and replaced with a mindless zombie, a mindless puppet zombie with all of his master’s knowledge of the arcane arts.

 

Fireballs erupted in his hands as anger overtook the Forsaken mage. He wouldn’t let this abomination stand. He couldn’t. His master may have been an arrogant ass, but he was a brilliant man and deserved better than this. He would give him better.

 

That is, if he survived it.

 

Duazhen had been a master mage and a member of the Kirin Tor. His power in the arcane arts was incomprehensible. If he truly wanted Gereth dead, a fireball and some arcane missiles were the least of the undead mage’s problems.

 

 _So be it_. Gereth accepted. _I honor you, Maester Duazhen in this my final service as your apprentice._

 

“You always told me I had extraordinary gifts, Maester.” Gereth told the zombie. “Now we find out whether or not you were right.”

 

“Do it.” A croaking whisper came from the direction of the zombie. “Do it, Gereth...”

 

Gereth froze at the whisper. “Maester?” He asked in disbelief.

 

Then lightning struck the undead mage, and a powerful electrical current struck through his being, causing intensive amounts of pain. Gereth nearly collapse from it once it had passed, but he held himself and moved quickly away from where he was. Fireballs launched from his own hands in response at the zombie, and just as with himself he watched ice form as a shield in front of Duazhen’s corpse to stop them.

 

But Gereth didn’t stop to see as he prepared his next attack. Ice formed around Duazhen’s feet even as the last remnants of the fireballs faded away and Gereth called on the frozen flames of another spell to strike his former mentor. Unable to move, and unable to call another shield quickly enough the zombie absorbed the impacts and burst into an unnatural blue flame.

 

Gereth felt the power within and around him flow more easily now as he unleashed his anger and pain at the abomination in front of him, fire, ice, and lighting flew from his hands striking the undead creature in front of him.

 

In response the master mage called up arcane torrents of energy around himself, vast and powerful vortexes of energies that could be used to open portals or rip the fabric of space and time itself.

 

Gereth shot arcane missiles of his own to disrupt the spell and break Duazhen’s concentration, but even though they found their target, the vortices continued to build.

 

 _Think! Think!_ Gereth demanded of his brain. What would stop his master from completing his spell? What weakness did the great Duazhen have that he could exploit? His eyes locked briefly with the undead maester’s own milky white eyes, and then it hit him. _He’s undead now._

 

Gereth then remembered the wand which he held in his left hand. It was rare that he used it, and then he reserved it for duels with mages of his own kind as a last resort. It was not a wand that would normally be used by one of his own class or order.

 

“ _Photosancte!_ ” Gereth cried out, directing the wand at the powerful mage in front of him. The wand lit up with a pure and radiant light that threatened to burn through Gereth’s gloves and destroy what tissues he had left. This was a dangerous and existence threatening power for one such as himself to wield.

 

“ _Exorciste!_ ” He cried out the spell’s word of command.

 

Gereth had learned this spell from an elven Paladin he had served with in the Hellfire Peninsula in Outland. He had been unable to use the Paladin’s source of holy power at the time, but remembered the incantation and non verbal elements of the spell. Then in the course of his adventures, he happened by happy chance on a rare and powerful wand originally crafted for a priest of the Holy Light. Painful for him to use, it became his advantage against others of his kind when the need arose. None ever expected a Forsaken mage to make use of Holy magics. None ever thought it possible.

 

A great beam of light shot from the tip of the wand and struck Duazhen’s corpse in the chest. The light slammed into him, dissolving dead and decaying tissues in its holy radiance. The portal vortices faded away, following the one who had called them forth.

 

Gereth watched as the light continued to eat away at the remnants of his master’s flesh in the hopes that it would release his soul in peace and free it from the demon lord’s dominion. The flow of light from the wand ceased as it utterly consumed the form of the former Sindorei mage until there was nothing left but Gereth’s memories.

 

“Goodbye, Maester.” Gereth uttered in a prayerful whisper. “May you find peace.”

 

The tower then shook, and the anger and wrath in the air became palpable.

 

Gereth did not care. The demon lord could rage all he wanted. He had just watched his sister die again, and now the man who taught him when no one else would. Both because of the evil that now resided in this tower.

 

“Rage all you want, Sargeras. I’m coming for you.” He said out loud as he made for the stairs which led upwards.

 

* * *

 

The counter over the projection of the trial counted down to zero, and the projection faded along with the mist as Zelda watched the results of the trial. The voice of the A.I. held no surprises for her when it announced the results.

 

“Subject two, Gereth. Trial complete. Bio-status, alive.” The feminine voice announced, hesitating only slightly on the pronouncement of his life signs.

 

“Trial results, worthy.” Fi’s disembodied voice announced pleasantly without emotion.

 

She then asked, “Proceed with genetic imprinting of the _Lamna Clavia_ for both subjects?”

 

Zelda’s own mind and heart were filled with conflicting, complex emotions after having watched the pain her friends had been put through. She knew both would be safe now that the trials were over.

 

“Location of subjects one and two?” Zelda asked, wanting a certainty that neither of her friends was still in any danger, putting off the previous question for the moment.

 

“Subject one is located in trial chamber one. Subject two has been returned to trial chamber two.” The A.I. responded.

 

There was nothing more Zelda could do. They chose this. She warned them off, but they chose this. Now, it was up to the cycle of fate, and fate was a cruel and harsh mistress herself.

 

“Proceed with imprinting. Both subjects.” Zelda confirmed.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 

Link lay on his hammock in the hold below deck as the _Maiden’s Virtue_ steamed towards the Island of Theramore situated on the eastern coast of Kalimdor in the region known as Dustwallow Marsh. For three days, he isolated himself there, replaying the encounter with the undead soldier from Valiance Keep in his mind.

 

Link hadn’t ventured much from that hammock in those three days. He had gone up on deck when asked for by the captain, which hadn’t been often. He only consented to take meals when his companions had nearly forced him to. He appreciated their concern, but his feelings towards them now were double edged. It was those same companions which were keeping him on the _Virtue_ instead of searching Northrend for the being who had caused the devastating plague.

 

 _He_ was here. Link was certain of it as he weighed all the pieces of the puzzle over and over again. _He_ had been pulled between worlds just like Link and Zelda had. It was the only thing which made sense. Somehow, impossibly, the three of them had brought Hyrule’s eternal conflict to this world as well, and with devastating effect. Link’s heart fell at the knowledge.

 

Images of mindless redeads wandering the streets of a dead and ruined Castle Town ran through his mind. His only consolation then had been that most of Castle Town’s population had fled to Kakariko near Death Mountain. But how many of the redead had been former residents?

 

Ganondorf’s idea of conquest.

 

How many times had that happened? Link’s deep memories weren’t always specific as to when something occurred and after a while, all the times he had been called on to beat _him_ back began to blur within his mind. Undead were not a new occurrence for the Hero of Hyrule.

 

Ganondorf tended to enjoy using them. And, for some twisted reason, so did the evil which took Ganondorf as its host.

 

It was that being that was the true threat to Link’s own world and this one. The powerful evil being known as _Demise_ in Link’s own world. Link had known him before, in their first lives. He was cocky and arrogant, but Link wouldn’t have ever thought the scientist and researcher evil. But the power and knowledge ascension brought was too much for some, and what they at first justify as “helping” those mortals who are ignorant or wayward can quickly spiral into taking away their free will or forcing them to believe in you to increase your own power.

 

Thus the reason for Link’s own repeating mortal form. It was the condition for his continued “interference” in keeping Demise from overrunning and destroying his world. Whatever he did, he was limited to those abilities which only mortals could possess.

 

Link’s first thought had been to send the ship onwards to Theramore while he remained behind to investigate and hunt down the Demon King in the dead continent. But his companions refused to let him go alone, his considerable, _otherworldly_ fighting abilities notwithstanding, and he couldn’t just let them die once they set foot off the boat. He was told Northrend was a huge landmass, and without supplies or game to hunt he would die of starvation before he reached Dalaran, abilities of a Druid or no.

 

They had all sworn to help him find his princess and get home, and they refused to abandon him now. It wasn’t right for him to abandon them. And, as he turned it over and over in his mind, they were right. He’d probably be dead of dehydration or starvation before he located the source.

 

One week. That was what the undead soldier had told him. One week until the blight reached the shores of Kalimdor. Not long after that, it would reach Tirisfal Glades in the Eastern Kingdoms, though it wouldn’t have nearly the loss of life there given that the Glades’ population was already undead.

 

One week, and they had already been at sea for three of those seven days. Who knew how many more days it would take to find Zelda? He was on the clock and it was quickly running down.

 

And Zelda was the only other person he knew of who might survive the deadly conditions, or have the power to help stop the Demon King yet again. That is, if she remembered who she was, and there was no guarantee of that.

 

 _Damn!_ Link swore to himself. _It’s only been a year since we sealed him away! Why did this have to happen now? And what happens to Hyrule in the meantime?_

 

His mortal mind never actually knew a lot about the mechanics of how the presence of the Triforce affected the stability of Hyrule’s reality, but only that it did and that it was important that it remain in that world. Now, he was convinced that all three pieces were gone from that land. How long would Hyrule last?

 

Zelda would know, if she remembered herself.

 

Link’s mind also turned to the problem of containing the Demon King again. It was hard enough to seal him back into the Sacred Realm in his own world. How would they return him to his prison now? And how would they retrieve the Triforce of Power from his host to bring home if they had to seal him here?

 

Link had learned long ago that killing him wasn’t an option. He could only weaken him enough to keep him imprisoned for a time. This was the impossible situation of trying to fight and contain an immortal with almost limitless power and knowledge. He had wished desperately, many times and in many different lifetimes that there would be some way of ending it once and for all.

 

But he kept coming back, and so did they.

 

Link had four days to find a solution to that problem, and to the problem of the spreading blight. He had less time than that to locate Zelda and bring her safely out of Horde hands. And then, somehow, they had to find a way to return themselves home.

 

Link knew she was alive, and that somehow she was safe. Whether she remembered it or not, they had always shared a bond, a connection since they were children so many thousands of years ago. She, the bright and precocious daughter of a brilliant scientist, and he the mischievous boy with dreams of being a hero and a soldier. They ran through the passageways and streets and stair wells of the shining city on the endless sea with its tall towers playing and terrorizing those engaged in more serious affairs that they as children had no grasp of.

 

A sad smile turned the corners of his lips at the impossibly distant memory.

 

After three days, the only solution he had to any of his questions was, ironically, for the last one; how to get home. There had to be a Linking Book here in Azeroth somewhere. It was just a matter of finding it, and they were usually kept in safe locations like a library or a shrine. Barring that, there was the _Astria Porta_ in Duskwood that he had seen and made use of. That might prove more complicated to cross realities with given the power requirements, but he didn’t think it was insurmountable. He was certain that, even if he couldn’t do the calculations, Zelda could.

 

“Link, Theramore’s in sight. We should all be ready to go when it docks.” Link heard Marshall McBride’s voice.

 

The Hylian turned his head towards the human soldier. McBride had returned to wearing his plate armor over his clothing.

 

 _When had he come down here to dress himself again?_ Link wondered.

 

Link sat up in the hammock and nodded as he looked at the human. A look of quiet concern filled McBride’s eyes.

 

“You should change before coming out on deck.” McBride told him. “It looks like the first mate’s already gone below deck to his own bunk for the moment.”

 

Link twisted himself off of his hammock. “Thanks.” Link told him. “Are the others ready?”

 

“Garen and Oliver are already up top. They’re just waiting for us.” McBride replied. He then asked, “Have you sorted what you’ve needed to?”

 

Link nodded and said, “Mostly, though I don’t like the answers I’ve come to.”

 

“Then they must be the right ones.” McBride told him. “It’s rare that the right answers are to our liking. It took some hard experience to learn that lesson.”

 

“We have four days until the blight reaches this continent. If there’s an answer to stopping it, I’m certain Zelda will be a part of it.” Link told him. “She’s...” Link stopped himself from giving the man more details than was needed. “She’s like me.” He finally said, which was true enough in its own way.

 

“Theramore has it’s own flightmaster for different regions of Kalimdor. It’s just a matter of locating the closest one to her. That’s where that handkerchief comes in. If she’s anywhere near an Alliance friendly flightmaster by now, we might be able to reach her by tomorrow.” McBride told him.

 

“And if she’s not?” Link asked.

 

“Then we do what we can and what we must, my young friend.” McBride told him. “Our world is no stranger to catastrophe or disaster. Somehow, we still find the wisdom, power, and courage to continue and move on. One thing you will find about those of us from Azeroth, we do not give up. Not as long as there is breath in our bodies and swords in our hands. We fight, we change, and we adapt. But we do not just roll over and die no matter who or what is against us. The end of the world is, ironically, not always the end of the world, but the beginning of a new one.”

 

Link looked at McBride as if with new eyes. _Wisdom, power, and courage. All three seem present in this man in abundance. How many more are like him in this world? Perhaps this is why there’s no cycle here. It is already a world full of heroes._

 

“I just realized, Marshall, I don’t know your first name. I’ve never asked.” Link told him.

 

“Roland.” McBride said. “Roland William McBride. Though I usually go by William to my friends. It was my father’s name.”

 

“William, then.” Link said, testing the name. “The only name I’ve gone by for a long, long time is Link. My mother’s name was _Farore_.”

 

“You make it sound like it’s been centuries.” McBride quipped good naturedly. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell with elves, but you can’t be more than what? Seventeen? Eighteen years old?”

 

Link just smiled at him, but there was a look in his eyes which betrayed a depth of experience no teenaged young man would possess. McBride didn’t understand it, but then, he couldn’t say he really understood elves either. The Kaldorei and the Sindorei were both mysteries to him.

 

“Well, at any rate, we’ll be pulling into port soon. You’d better look a little more Alliance friendly before we dock, Link son of Farore.” McBride told him.

 

Link’s body then began to shift and contort as the gray and white fur sprouted over him, his nose, mouth and jaws began to enlongate into a wolfish snout, and his whole frame seemed to grow in size and strength.

 

The two of them then made their way to the open deck above where Oliver and Garen awaited them, watching the large, walled island town come closer and closer until the ship was close enough for the crew to toss mooring lines and tie the _Maiden’s Virtue_ to Theramore’s dock.

 

As the four companions made ready to disembark, Captain Galloway came up and extended his hand to Link’s worgen form. Link took the human’s calloused hand into his own powerful and clawed one and shook it.

 

“It was good to know you, lad. The other lads and I owe you our lives and more than that. You ever need anything from me or my crew you have but to say the word.” Galloway told him sincerely. He then added, “I hope you find what you’re looking for here.”

 

“Me too.” Link answered in a raspy, animalistic voice as he pulled his hand away from the clasp.

 

“I’ve got to go and report our findings to the Lady Jaina. She’ll have a better idea than I as to what to do about this new blight.” Galloway added. “I’ll daresay she may want to talk to you as well, lad, if you’d consider sticking around for a little bit.”

 

Link had considered it, but in his heart he knew this world’s best chance would be to find the young woman he had been seeking. “I’ve got to keep going.” He told the captain. “There’s a friend I’m trying to find who may be able to help as well.”

 

The four passengers then walked down the gangplank and onto the wooden docks of the Alliance stronghold of Theramore. The sea breeze was light and salty, and the sun shone high overhead. It would have been a day to lighten spirits and moods if the weight of their mission hadn’t been made heavier by their experiences in Northrend.

 

The _Virtue_ had made port in the northern docks of the small harbor. A central dock had already been occupied by another ship flying the colors of Menethil Harbor, another fortified harborage to the north of Elwyn in the region of the south eastern continent called Khaz Modan.

 

 

The four walked up the long stretch of wooden docks. The port of Theramore grew even more impressive as they drew closer. Marshall McBride took the lead as they progressed off the wooden docks and onto the solid land of the island.

 

Theramore seemed like a smaller, more fortified version of the city of Stormwind to Link. While he was colorblind as a worgen, he imagined the tile rooftops to be sapphire blue like the human capital, and the stone of the walls and buildings appeared a marble white to him. In some small ways it reminded him of the floating island city of his original birth millennia ago with its great spire of a tower rising high in the center of the small city. The central tower of Theramore was surrounded by several smaller houses, shops, and other buildings necessary to the city’s survival. A large fortress sat to the east of the tower. Men in armor and uniforms trained nearby.

 

McBride didn’t lead them towards any of the shops or buildings however. Instead, he led them towards a stocky dwarf with flaming red hair, matching braided mustache, and long flowing beard tied off at the end. The dwarf wore a kind of goggles which hid his eyes behind a reflection. Behind the dwarf was a small stable with majestic gryphons housed within.

 

As the four men approached the dwarf, he seemed to be eying them, and then said, “How can I help you lads?”

 

“We seek passage north to Ratchet in the Northern Barrens.” McBride told him. “Time is a consideration.”

 

“Isn’t it always?” The dwarf reponded. “The name’s Baldruc, and I’ll pit my gryphons against anyone else’s animals any time of the day or night.” He then looked over his prospective clients again. “Ratchet you say? Are you sure you be wanting to head there, lad? Used to be a rough, but still relatively safe port for us Alliance folk to venture, but things have changed here in Kalimdor between Theramore and the Horde since that warmonger Garrosh took charge of them. The Goblin’s ‘ll take your money alright, but they’re not nearly as friendly ‘bout it. Good men go missing.”

 

Link dug his furred, clawed hand into the small satchel on his belt where he had kept the handkerchief Zelda had given him. He hadn’t touched it since the mage, Khelden Bremen, had enchanted it to lead him to Zelda. He touched it and wrapped it around his fingers gently

 

“Thanks for the warning, friend, but we have urgent business to the north.” McBride returned to the dwarf in a friendly manner.

 

As the material from the handkerchief made contact with Link’s fingers, he began to see images of a cool, shady forest with white marble ruins. Several humanoids that strongly resembled Hylians but with darker blue and violet skin, and various shades of hair the same color were moving about the ruins. Others were there that had more bovine or goat like legs and thick tales. A tall spire of a tower rose to one side of the ruins. The enchantment placed on the piece of cloth was pulling him north and he felt strongly that Zelda was in this place.

 

The flightmaster stroked his beard as his mirrored goggle continued to observe them. “Can’t see you heading inland unless you’re really looking for trouble. Not that lads such as yourselves couldn’t handle a little trouble. Whereabouts you planning on heading on from there? Maybe I could show you a better route.”

 

“Somewhere there’s a forest with ruins.” Link said out loud. “With dark blue skinned elves moving about them.”

 

McBride turned to Link in surprise and asked, “Are you certain that’s where we need to go, Link? It doesn’t sound like...”

 

Link held on to the images in his mind and the tugging from the cloth became insistent. _She’s there!_ It seemed to say to him. _In the forest!_ _In the tower!_

 

“She’s in a tower in a forest to the north of us. The tower’s among the ruins of a town. I’m certain that’s where she is.” Link said, his voice raspy and somewhat growling though without malice to it.

 

“Is there any place like that to the north of us, Flightmaster Baldruc?” Brother Garen spoke up. “We’re not as familiar with Kalimdor as we probably should be.”

 

“Oh aye, that I can see.” Baldruc replied. “But as to your question, aye. It sounds like you’ll be wanting to go on to Ashenvale. Not the safest of destinations either I’m afraid for all the fightin’ between the orcs and elves. But there be plenty of Night Elf ruins up there if that’s what you be after. Come to think of it, there’s this one site where they be trying to rebuild an old Night Elf town called Forest Song. Had a group of archaeologists come through a few days ago, said they were headed up to Forest Song to join the growing expedition. There even be a flightmaster up there now too. I know because I got my gryphons back fed and in good shape.”

 

 _Yes!_ The cloth wrapped around Link’s hand practically jolted him.

 

“Yes, Forest Song is where we need to go.” Link told him.

 

“Well, I can certainly arrange that for you gents.” Baldruc said with a smile. “And you don’t even have to go through Ratchet. My boys are tough enough to take you all the way to Astranaar if they needed to. They can handle a little jaunt to Forest Song just fine.”


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

When Shaggara opened her eyes again, the human was gone. The first thing she saw was blue glowing lines forming geometric patterns. She found she was laying down on her back, slightly splayed out as though she had fallen or collapsed on the ground.

 

She immediately sat up, alert and wary. Her axes lay next to her on either side like they had fallen from her hands.

 

She searched her mind, trying to recall her last moments. The last thing she remembered was looking at the human who had inexpertly tried to shoot her. He was calling for bandages and healing potion, telling her that he was going to repay his debt to her. And before that…

 

Her memories were hazy. She remembered fighting orcs, and… and her parents were there somehow. There was a great battle, and a swampy ground flowed red with blood. She survived, her attackers did not. She kept trying to remember the details of her experience, but they continuously slipped from her mind’s grasp.

 

The realization then dawned on her. _The human saved my life._ _I should have died._

 

Her thick leather breastplate armor had been removed. Her upper torso was nearly naked but for the bandages. Bloodied mageweave covered her arms all the way from her hands to her shoulders. Her side had been wrapped, as had several places on her legs. The bandages felt hard and crusty. She knew the feel of dried blood, especially her own, all too well.

 

She touched her side, but there was no pain and no tenderness. She flexed her arms and fingers. They felt stiff, as though she had been asleep for a long time, but there was no pain or soreness in them either.

 

She carefully unwrapped her hands to find her greenish brown skin unbroken and unscarred. There was a slight, bright reddish stain on her skin which had nothing to do with blood. The bandages themselves were almost soaked through with bloodstains. The mageweave bandages had done their work well. She then went to work unwrapping the rest of the bandages on her arms, carefully peeling them away. When she was certain there were no open wounds left for her to tend, she went to work on the bandages covering her side where her hazy memories told her she had been severely lacerated and nearly eviscerated.

 

The amount of dried blood on this bandage alone would have been evidence to such a wound. The human had done an expert job. Having been through many battlefield hospital camps, she recognized the work of an experienced battlefield surgeon when she saw it. She peeled it back to inspect her side, but again found undamaged and unbroken skin.

 

Then she noticed the bitter-sour taste on her lips, and the equally bitter aftertaste in her mouth. It was the taste of a strong healing potion; the kind a master alchemist might brew.

 

_The human saved my life._

 

The thought raced through her mind in confusion again. _First he tries to kill me, and then he makes certain I completely heal from what should have been fatal injuries? Why?_

 

She didn’t understand, and the images which flashed through her mind made no sense and gave no answers. There was a name she had heard somewhere, _Roland… McBride_. Who was that, and why was it important to her?

 

She tested her arms and legs again and found them as sturdy and stable as they should be. She then used them to stand up and inspect the strange place she found herself in.

 

Realizing that if she removed all of her bandages she might be standing there almost completely naked, she left those that criss-crossed her chest and shoulders. Her waist and hips still bore most of the leather breaches she had worn, though her boots had been removed as well and bandages ran around her ankles and shins.

 

She was in a stone chamber with no windows. The blue glowing lines she had seen at first traced around the walls and floor of the chamber. At one end they formed a rectangle like a doorway. At the other end, they formed a circle large enough for a tall Night Elf male to step through. Various runes or symbols surrounded the circle in a pattern, though she recognized none of them.

 

The center of the blue, door shaped rectangle was solid stone that she could see, but the center of the circle on the opposite side of the chamber looked as though it were filled with the shining, otherworldly elemental water.

 

 _I was in a trial._ Shaggara thought to herself. _That’s why I am in this chamber. I entered it to begin a test of my worthiness. Zelda told me. She warned me about it._

 

Shaggara then remembered the glowing rectangle that she had passed through to enter the chamber.

 

 _I came through that way._ She thought, looking back at the lit, but sealed stone portal. _So then I progress through the circle of water?_

 

She then remembered her axes which still lay on the floor. She knelt down and picked them up, reattaching them to their sheaths on her belt. How her belt had survived her contest and most of the rest of her armor did not, she did not know.

 

Shaggara took quiet, deliberate steps on the lit stone floor. It was not cold against the soles of her feet as she might have expected, but a gentle warmth radiated through it as she walked across it to the circular portal.

 

She recognized it as a permanent mage’s portal. She had seen them before in the adventures of her youth. The largest of them that she had seen was the Dark Portal itself, though it stood as a massive rectangular gateway. She had also once seen one of the guarded portals of the Emerald Dream, the Druids’ own sacred realm where their patron dragon (goddess? Shaggara was never clear on that point), Ysera, dwelt. This portal set into the chamber wall looked very much like one of those.

 

Seeing no other way out or forward, Shaggara stepped into the portal. Immediately she felt as if she had been pulled into an endless night sky and all the stars rushed at her as if she was falling through an endless tunnel. And then, almost as quickly as it began, it ended.

 

Disoriented, Shaggara stepped out onto a dark stone platform set a little ways off the ground. In front of her was a grassy stretch filled with full, leafy deciduous trees which stretched high and formed a loose canopy over the grass through which golden light filtered onto the natural green carpet. The grass was lush, uncut, and soft to the touch of her feminine orcish foot. The air was filled with the fragrance of trees, leaves, and foliage of all kinds in an endless summer’s day.

 

The feeling of wild, untamed life was everywhere. It was immediately palpable and energizing to her making her want to run, to climb, to fight, to hunt. Her senses became heightened, and every image, every sound, every smell was sharper and more distinct than ever before. The energy in the air made her feel _alive_ in a way that she hadn’t ever experienced.

 

In awe, she turned around slowly, taking in the new environment. Overhead, great raptor birds flew searching for new prey. Nearby, a herd of majestic deer stood grazing. Somewhere off to her left, she heard the movement of a small animal rushing through the grass.

 

 _Where am I? Can any place this magnificent truly exist?_ She asked herself

 

Behind her stood a stone and metal ring with the same runes covering its face. They glowed with a purplish light. But there was no puddle of glowing water in the center of the ring. The portal had closed.

 

 _Is this another trial?_ She wondered.

 

She turned away from the ring and her toes felt a slight depression or hole in the otherwise smooth face of the platform. At her feet she noticed an indentation which resembled a narrow diamond shape intentionally cut into the stone. As she raised her head, she saw steps leading down to the grass.

 

She moved down the short flight of stone steps which had led up to it. As she moved through the environment, her sense of reverent awe grew. It seemed only a forest, one of many she had been in, and yet there was a sacredness about it, as though she had stepped into a cathedral or a temple of some kind.

 

Shaggara was not religious. What gods there may be had done few favors for her in her life. But she felt that if there were gods, then this place was what their garden would be.

 

 _And yet I have looked into the face of one_. The thought came so forcefully to her mind that she couldn’t just shove it to the side. _I have looked into the face of an immortal, and I have called her “friend.”_

 

Shaggara continued walking away from the portal. Every so often she looked back to keep herself oriented in relation to it so that she would not become lost. It stood to reason that whatever she was meant to find or encounter would be found not far from it.

 

Soon, she spotted something that seemed completely out of place in this sacred realm of life and living things. It was something that she found herself very glad to see.

 

Not far from where she found herself, there sat a humanoid figure in red robes and a red cloak under a tree. The figure was cross legged, his hands resting comfortably palms down on his knees. As she approached, she could see that his eyelids were closed peacefully as though sleeping or meditating. Though with this much energy in the air, she didn’t know how any living person could rest or feel such peace in the middle of it.

 

But then, the person calmly relaxed in front of her was not living, at least not in the strictest sense.

 

“Gereth?” Shaggara asked quietly, as though she were in a shrine.

 

Gereth opened his eyes and the milky white irises pointed at her. “Shaggara, my dear, where did you come from? I was hoping you would join me soon.” He said in a relaxed, friendly manner. He patted the tufts of soft grass next to him on the ground gently with his red gloved hand. “Why don’t you sit with me for a while?” Then, as he truly gazed at her, his eyes went wider and he said, “What happened to your clothes?”

 

“My armor must have been too badly damaged for me to keep it. I woke up wearing practically nothing but mageweave bandages.” She told him. She then said, “This place is so alive with energy. I could not sit and be still if I wanted to. How can you?” Shaggara responded.

 

“I feel...” Gereth tried to find the words. “I feel alive for the first time in many, many years, my dearest friend. I feel whole here, and finally at peace.” He tried to explain. “I...” He then paused and looked at her in surprise and confusion, “Wait, what did you say?”

 

“What? I said...” Shaggara tried to answer.

 

“That’s just it. You said ‘I’ as though it were the most normal thing in the world. What happened?” Gereth asked in amazement. “I’ve never heard you claim your own self as naturally and securely as that.”

 

Shaggara was stunned. “I… I don’t know. I hadn’t realized… I don’t remember what happened except there was a battle between myself and other orcs. I…” She stopped and tried to make herself remember. “I think I was protecting someone from them… a human family. I think it was the trial Zelda warned us about, but I only remember bits and pieces.”

 

“Yes, the trial.” Gereth’s expression became dark and brooding. “Mine was… painful. I don’t know if any of it was real or not, but I think my reactions were real enough, and that was all that mattered to whoever or whatever makes those decisions.”

 

“You remember yours, then?” Shaggara asked.

 

She thought she saw his eyes mist over as he said, “Oh yes. All too well I’m afraid.”

 

“Strange then, that I do not.” Shaggara said.

 

“Perhaps there was no need for you to remember, or perhaps it tested you so thoroughly that your mind couldn’t handle the truth of who you really are, or what you’re really capable of.” Gereth offered.

 

Sometimes, Shaggara was truly amazed at the undead mage’s insight, especially for one who, even with his condition, was still younger than herself. The more she tried to bring those most recent memories to her conscious mind, the more they stubbornly resisted and buried themselves away from her grasp. All she could remember was defending the human who had saved her life, and the name of a little human boy, _Roland McBride_.

 

“Do you know where we are now? What we are to do next?” Shaggara asked him.

 

Gereth looked at her and replied, “I honestly have no idea what to do next. I’m not even certain as to how long I’ve been here. I came through the portal gateway a little while ago after…” he took a deep breath, which itself was strange for a dead man, before he continued, “after my trial where I found myself here. It felt so alive and so restful, all I could think to do was just to sit and enjoy it. I don’t get much of a chance to just sit and enjoy the feeling of being alive.”

 

Shaggara nodded in empathetic understanding. The truth was, she could never understand where he was coming from. No living person could. But if it made her friend happy, and helped him to feel something good, then she was thankful.

 

“Do you know where we are?” Shaggara asked.

 

“I can only think of one place this might be, though how we could be here, how you and I would be permitted here, I honestly don’t know.” Gereth replied. “I believe it to be the realm the Druids call the ‘Emerald Dream’.”

 

“I have heard of it.” Shaggara told him. “Though I know little about such things.”

 

“This is the dragon Ysera’s realm.” He explained. “It’s said to be Azeroth as it should be, without the interference and destruction resulting from the presence of intelligent beings such as ourselves. Think of it as the pattern or blueprint for our world. A ‘form of forms,’ so to speak from which the rest of Azeroth takes its shape and meaning. It is a most sacred place.”

 

“We were seeking to obtain the Golden Flame.” Shaggara remembered. “Is it here in this Dream?”

 

“I can see no safer place to store it than here.” Gereth replied. “I suppose that means I need to get up now and get back to my mission in life, doesn’t it?” His face took on a sad, wistful quality.

 

Shaggara smiled and offered the Forsaken mage her own strong, slightly clawed, womanly hand to help him up. “We both do.” She told him as she helped him to his feet.

 

“Well, it was good while it lasted. I suppose I should be thankful.” He remarked as he stretched and looked around.

 

The gateway they had come through was still within view in the distance, though Gereth did not know if it was north, south, east, or west of their position. The sun overhead, not truly visible for the canopy of trees, had been constant the entire time he had been here. He wasn’t certain darkness or night came to this place.

 

He continued to look around him but saw nothing indicating any particular direction in which they were to go. Just the foliage and the somewhat unnaturally unafraid wild animals that took notice of them, and then continued on as though it were perfectly routine for the two intruders to be there.

 

Then as he continued to observe, he noticed something which should have been obvious to him from the start.

 

_Why hasn’t the sun moved?_

 

He observed the pattern and direction of the light as it filtered through the trees. It hadn’t changed from the moment he arrived. He continued to make his observations.

 

“How did I not notice this before?” He asked himself as he studied the ground and the trees.

 

“Notice what?” Shaggara asked him.

 

“The shadows of the trees.” He replied. “The shadows of the trees all point in a single direction, away from the source of light. That direction hasn’t changed since I arrived. If the source of light were a regular moving celestial body like the sun, then the shadows should move with it. These have not. I have observed no day or night cycle whatsoever for as long as I have been here. While I do not know exactly how much time has passed it, I am certain it has been long enough to see some discernible change in the light. Whatever is producing the light which is sustaining this foliage and growth is in a fixed location.” He then gestured in the direction opposite the shadows. “And it’s that way.”

 

“It’s someplace to start.” Shaggara agreed.

 

The undead mage and the orc warrior proceeded then in the direction away from the shadows. After some time of walking, the trees began to thin out considerably into a glade and the light became brighter and clearer to see until they found themselves walking into what looked like the sun.

 

“What is that?!” Shaggara exclaimed as they both first laid eyes on it coming out of the forest. She tried to keep looking but her natural instinct was to pull away and close her eyes.

 

The light was not harsh, but it was bright and radiant and spread out all around them, bathing the grasslands and the surrounding forest in a perpetual summer’s day. The light was coming from atop what looked at first like a great, solitary white and gold mountain that seemed to reflect and amplify the sun’s light atop it.

 

Shaggara’s eyes were overwhelmed by the light, but Gereth continued to gaze at it. His eyes, already dead, were unaffected. As he let them adjust the best they could, he was able to observe the scene more clearly and determine what they were looking at.

 

“It’s a ziggurat.” He said, describing it for her. “The light source is at the pinnacle. It looks like there are stairs facing our direction. They stand out like a long dark stripe in the side of the pyramid. The light is bright, but not harsh, my dear. I don’t think it will damage living eyes to look at it. Otherwise, there would be large numbers of blind deer and their predators running through this glade and the surrounding forest.”

 

He tapped her arm and gestured towards a herd of gently grazing animals that seemed completely unaffected. She chanced a look and saw to what he was referring. She then looked back at the radiant mountain, fighting her instincts to protect her eyes and realized he was right. The bright, sunlike light didn’t cause her eyes pain or damage.

 

“Let’s go.” She said.

 

The two then continued through the grassy glade, towards the shining stepped pyramid in front of them. As they drew closer, the ziggurat came more into focus and the taller and grander it seemed to become, and the more reverence they both felt.

 

The surface of the ziggurat was covered in engraved. golden writing, similar to the ancient runes on the portal gateways and totally unreadable to either Gereth or Shaggara. Each step of the stepped pyramid was trimmed in truesilver which reflected the bright, golden white light of the source in all directions. Azerothian diamonds were set into the corners of each of the steps, catching the white light and shattering it across the spectrum of colors.

 

They both stopped at the base of the stairs of the pyramid. To say it was magnificent, awe inspiring, beautiful; all of these descriptions paled in comparison to the reality of it.

 

Gereth then, appearing uncertain at first and somewhat awkward, silently dropped to one knee in a genuflecture of respect. Seeing it, Shaggara, who bent the knee to virtually no one, mortal or otherwise, fought with herself. Warchief Thrall she would have honored in such a way, but he had earned her respect. The pyramid was beyond words, but there was a difference between appearance and substance. She nodded her head, acknowledging the presence of someone or something greater than herself, but that being would have to prove themselves to her before she bent the knee.

 

“We come seeking the Golden Flame!” Shaggara announced loudly.

 

There was silence for some time after that. It was the solemn silence of a throne room, where the monarch had just been rudely addressed and was deciding whether or not to execute the supplicant, or address them back.

 

A tension passed through the air in response. It felt tangible, like a perceptible wave of force or electricity. Shaggara felt it deep within her body, and her soul. She did not announce herself again.

 

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the orc warrior woman heard the beating of wings coming through the air. Huge leathery wings that struck the air hard and rhythmically. She closed her eyes and silently swore. She knew that sound all too well. She had fought more than her fair share of them in her lifetime, often right beside her undead friend who was still on one knee.

 

“Dragon.” Shaggara head Gereth whisper.

 

The beating of the dragon’s wings came closer and closer until a great scaled green and lavender form appeared overhead, lit up gloriously by the light of the ziggurat’s peak. The green dragon was glorious, majestic, and terrifying all at the same time.

 

The dragon circled the ziggurat, eying the two intruders then it began to drop towards the pyramid’s dark stone stairs. As it did, it began to shift its form, becoming smaller and more humanoid. It landed about midway up the ziggurat in the form of a tall, athletic, female Kaldorei no less majestic or intimidating than the dragon had been.

 

Her flawless skin was a beautiful shade of dark lavender. She wore an armored brassiere of green dragonscale, and matching armored legplates. Great horns came up out of her bright green hair. A somewhat ragged green cloak flowed down her back. Armored plates of what looked like it might be a reddish wood adorned her shoulders. Growing out of the plates seemed to be short, curved branches holding glowing globes of light. Her beautiful, but stern Night Elf face was impassive as she studied them. Her eyes glowed with a supernatural pale green light. The golden white light of the pyramid flowed around her giving her an even more otherworldly and divine appearance.

 

Shaggara did not need to be told who she stood before. She knew the name of the dragon that guarded the Druid’s Emerald Dream.

 

“Lady Ysera.” She said, nodding her head again in sincere respect.

 

Ysera did not answer for many minutes as she studied the two of them. Finally, she spoke.

 

“You are not who I expected.” Ysera told them. “Neither of you.”

 

Shaggara considered this and replied, “To be honest, Lady Ysera, we had not expected to be here either.”

 

Ysera cocked her head curiously. “Why do you disturb my Dream in this way then?”

 

Without rising, Gereth responded, “We seek the Golden Flame to restore balance to Azeroth and to set things right. We were unaware that it was protected here in your realm.”

 

Ysera then descended the steps towards them until she stood just one step above them looking down. She inclined her attention towards Shaggara and asked, “You do not fear me like this one does?”

 

“I would be foolish not to respect your power, Lady Ysera, but I will not bend my knee to anyone who has not earned that honor.” Shaggara told her, looking straight into her glowing eyes.

 

Ysera grinned. “I like you, Orc. You have a warrior’s courage and heart. I can see it in the fire in your eyes. But it is tempered by wisdom as well. I daresay you have the power to act also. This is good. I approve. Who sent you?”

 

Shaggara thought quickly. She almost said, “Zelda,” but then she remembered what the princess had said. _Zelda_ meant _Paladin_ in the ancient tongue. Then she remembered the other name the Hylian woman had used.

 

“The Lady Hylia bid us pass through trials to reach your realm.” Shaggara told her.

 

Ysera’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Hylia? Hylia is in Azeroth? How is she there? I knew my son had come into Azeroth. I spoke to him. But Hylia cannot be here! She cannot leave her own realm without disastrous consequences for all realms! She must return to her own realm at once!”

 

 _Her son?_ Shaggara wondered.

 

“This is another reason why we seek the Golden Flame, Lady Ysera.” Gereth spoke again. “We don’t know how she arrived in Azeroth, and we are seeking to return her and her companion back to their own world.”

 

“You are not living, mage.” Ysera told him, nearly spitting the word _mage_. “I can smell the death and decay around you. It is like a toxin to my world and to me. How did you come to be here?” Her voice became hostile.

 

“I passed through the trials which were set for me, Lady Ysera. This is one of the things I wish to undo with the Golden Flame. I wish to reverse the curse of undeath which has been laid on my people and our land.” Gereth responded sincerely, unperturbed by her reaction.

 

Ysera looked at him with disdain, but listened to his explanation and seemed to be weighing it. Then, without warning she thrust a clawed, gauntleted right hand at his decomposing forehead, her expression revolted at having to touch him. She pressed her palm against that forehead, and her eyes became distant and searching.

 

Gereth’s mind became awash in images and flashes of memory as Ysera dove into his conscious and subconscious thoughts. In fractions of a second, he relived all the pains and simple joys he felt over the course of the last several days, and then much farther back than that. But she seemed to be focusing on his experiences during his trials, and especially on the condition of Dalaran and the demonic cause of it.

 

Ysera’s eyes went wide as she pulled her hand away in surprise and shock. She shook her gauntleted hand as though having touched something unclean, but the hostile look of disgust was gone from her expression. It had been replaced by serious concern.

 

“Stand up, mage. Let me see your eyes.” She told Gereth.

 

“They are not pleasing to living eyes, Lady Ysera.” Gereth told her in reply.

 

“Doubtless, but I would see them anyway.” She retorted.

 

Gereth slowly got to his feet, and stood up straight in front of her, looking into her eyes with his own milky white dead ones.

 

Ysera studied his face earnestly, looking so intently into his eyes that Gereth wanted to flinch and look away. He fought the urge and maintained her gaze.

 

She nodded in satisfaction. “I see strength and life in you, corpse.” Ysera pronounced. “I see your desire for restoration within you. But know this, nature is about balance. One cannot have life without death, or death without life. In order for the nightsaber to live, the deer must die. In order for the grass to live, the nightsaber must die and decompose into the ground. In order for the deer to live, the grass must be sacrificed. Death is not opposed to nature, it is a part of it.”

 

“Forgive me, Lady Ysera, but while death may be a part of nature, surely undeath is something against it?” Gereth countered.

 

“Undeath without purpose, perhaps.” The elven dragon replied. “But I see a purpose to you, Gerethandron of Andorhal. Your continued existence has a meaning and a plan. The divine is not done with you, and this I will respect. I advise you to consider this when you obtain that which you seek.”

 

“I would think the Holy Light wants little to do with one like myself.” Gereth responded.

 

“Let the Holy Light be the judge of that, as it is of us all.” Ysera countered.

 

The Lady then turned and with a gesture of her hand said, “Follow me.”

 

She led them up the steps, higher and higher, and the radiant source of the light came closer and closer. Strangely though, as the came closer to the top, the clearer their sight became. Rather than blinding them completely, it made everything sharper and in better focus.

 

They came to a landing. The source of the light still lay above them at the peak of the ziggurat. The landing was made of the same polished, black stone that the stairs were. Across the landing were the same glowing runes laid out in concentric circles around a central point of the landing. In that center was the hilt and half buried blade of a sword. The sword blade was wide near the hilt and it tapered more narrowly further down. The pommel was a large carved emerald, easily priceless for its clarity and color. The handle was wrapped in a rugged brown leather while the thick crossguard split off into what looked like thick metal horns supported by the stylized design of a head on view of a dragon. The blade looked both elegant and savage. A bluish energy coursed up and down the blade.

 

“Behold,” Ysera said, “The Blade of Nature’s Wrath. The Sword of Mastery. You must both grip its hilt and let the sword decide.”

 

“Let it decide what?” Shaggara asked.

 

“If you are worthy.” Ysera replied.

 

“I thought that was what the trials were for.” Shaggara responded.

 

“The Sword makes its own decisions as to who its master is. To obtain the Golden Flame, you must draw the Sword together.” Ysera replied.

 

“And if it decides we’re not worthy?” Gereth asked.

 

“Then you will not leave this place alive.” Ysera growled.

 

“Wonderful.” Gereth replied under his breath.

 

“Well, better do the thing properly.” Gereth then said and he took off the glove of his right hand exposing the skeletal remains of what had been the gentle, masculine hand of a scholar. Decrepit remains of muscle, tendon, and tattered skin were all that was left of it.

 

Shaggara took her own right hand and, looking at Gereth, they both then gripped the hilt of the blade together, interlocking orcish and undead fingers together.

 

There was an immediate response as a feminine voice seemed to emanate from the Sword.

 

“Recognition accepted. Master Gereth accepted. Mistress Shaggara accepted. All protocols are now active.” The voice of the sword spoke.

 

Shaggara and Gereth then pulled upwards on the sword, drawing it out of the slot which had been cut into the stone.

 

As they did that, the white light around them began to fade. It continued to do so until it appeared as night around them. Overhead, countless stars appeared in the sky as well as a single small moon.

 

“What happened?” Gereth asked in confusion. “Did we do something wrong?”

 

“No, corpse mage.” Ysera replied. “On the contrary, you have restored the balance that was lost when the Golden Flame was delivered here into my keeping by a well meaning Paladin. Eternal day can be just as harmful as eternal night. Look.” She pointed up towards the peak of the ziggurat, which was now clearly visible.

 

“The Golden Flame.” She said.

 

At the peak of the pyramid were three whitish golden triangles arranged to form a single triangle. Though not as bright, it still shone with an otherworldly radiance.

 

“You must remove it from my realm and use it the way it was meant. You must use it to fight the evil being that you saw in your trial, mage. That is its true purpose.” Ysera told them.

 

“But that was just a test, an illusion…. wasn’t it?” Gereth asked, unconvinced himself.

 

“If only it were.” Ysera replied ominously.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 

It seemed as though the early hours before dawn when Gereth and Shaggara stood once more in front of the portal gateway. The single moon had set, and the bright lights of the stars did not penetrate much through the finally sleeping canopy of trees. The light they depended on to find their way back came from a gently glowing ball of silvery light which sat atop a long, gnarled wooden staff held in Gereth’s hand. They felt many pairs of eyes watching them as they made their way, but no harm was attempted on them.

 

They had both been somewhat quiet and contemplative as they journeyed back to where they had entered Ysera’s realm. Neither had left the presence of Ysera empty of hand or mind.

 

When she gave the staff to him, she said, “This staff is imbued with the power of nature and all living things. These forces are wild, savage to many. They cannot be controlled and bent to your will like sterile arcane magics. You must respect nature and consider it your companion and teacher, not your servant. Trust in it, and it may guide you to what you seek. Use it well, Mage of the Golden Flame.”

 

Seeing the bloodied and ragged bandages Shaggara was using to maintain what modesty she could, Ysera insisted that the orc warrior receive a gift of armor from her. Before they left the ziggurat, Shaggara was outfitted in a breastplate armored with green dragonscales, with similarly crafted shoulder plates, gauntlets, legplates and boots. The Sword of Mastery hung in a green and purple scabbard across her back in addition to the axes still strapped to her belt.

 

“This armor is made from my own scales. It is hide of my hide. As long as you wear it, your life’s energy will draw from all that is green, growing, and wild around you. It is my blessing to you, warrior. May my armor protect you in battle as it protects me, Hero of Azeroth. Wear it well.” Ysera had told her.

 

To them both she said before departing, “The Golden Flame is about balance, remember that when you seek to use it. It is in extremes that evil and corruption thrive and prosper. Nature requires both life and death, summer and winter, sun and rain. This is a lesson that your kind seldom learns, but I see potential in you both. Do not disappoint me.”

 

Now they stood in front of the great ring, woody tree roots intertwined around it. But the ring remained dark and silent. The runes which had previously glowed with a purple light were dark, and the puddle of energy which marked it as a permanent portal was gone.

 

“Can you make it work?” Shaggara asked the mage.

 

“I don’t know. Mages have attempted to study the Druid portals for centuries, but they defy all attempts to control or manipulate them. At least by us, that is. Even the Druids themselves do not enter the Emerald Dream directly through the portals, but through some kind of projection of their consciousness.” Gereth responded as he approached the stone ring and studied it under the light of the staff. “One theory is that it is controlled by the runes, but one has to know which runes to invoke and in what order.”

 

“Which we do not.” Shaggara said.

 

“Which we do not.” Gereth agreed as the light from the staff ran the circumference of the ring and then went lower as Gereth crouched to search the stone platform.

 

“What are you looking for down there?” Shaggara asked.

 

“Anything else that might tell us what to do.” Gereth responded as the light of the staff methodically ran over the smooth, polished stone surface.

 

After several minutes, and he had covered a large part of the platform, he noticed a small change in shadow in the center of the platform near the steps. It was a narrow diamond shape, and as he felt it with his fingers, it was an indentation like a slot or a hole about three inches long and maybe half an inch wide. It ran parallel to the stone ring.

 

“Is it really that easy?” Gereth asked himself as a clear idea of what was needed formed in his mind. “Shaggara, my dear, would you lend me the Sword.”

 

Shaggara drew the blade from its scabbard on her back and presented the hilt to her friend who had stood up to receive it. He took it with his left hand, while holding his staff with his right. He passed the light of the staff over the blade of the sword and noted its width and breadth. It looked to be just the right size and shape. Gereth then took the word and carefully worked the tip over the slot. He then drove the sword into the slot as far as it would go. The emerald pommel of the Sword of Mastery immediately lit up with a greenish gold light.

 

The effect was immediate as nine of the portal’s runes lit up in glowing purple at once and a great inverted vortex of energy whooshed out of the portal and then immediately drew back to form the puddle of energy that they had previously seen.

 

When the portal had stabilized, Gereth then removed the sword from the slot and handed it back to Shaggara, saying, “It functions like a key in a lock. We had better move, I doubt the portal was meant to stay open for long after it was opened.”

 

With nothing more said, the two walked through the gateway. Once more, it seemed as though they had walked into a night sky filled with stars, and then the stars stretched and enlongated and it felt as though they were falling through space and time, until suddenly they stopped and the world righted itself.

 

They stepped out of a greenish puddle of energy onto a white stone platform, similar to the one they had just left. It was still night, the area around them lit with glowing globes hanging from living foliage like lamp posts. In front of them was a stone ramp which led downwards into a glade filled with green dragonkin warriors patrolling the glade, all armed and armored. But this was not what caught their attention at first.

 

What caught their attention was the attractive young elven woman with blond hair and blue eyes dressed in a light jade colored top and pants standing with her hands folded in front of her. A smile was on her lips and in her eyes as she watched them emerge from the portal. It was a smile which told them both that she was relieved and grateful to see them both emerge.

 

Neither Gereth nor Shaggara spoke when they saw her.

 

Zelda’s smile faded as she saw the expressions on their faces. There was an energy about them, a liveliness which had not been there before, but there was also a sadness and a pain in the eyes of each of them.

 

Shaggara’s eyes in particular looked haunted. Flashes of anger, relief, and even joy ran across her features as she locked eyes with the Hylian princess. Zelda had expected no less if her orcish friend had survived the ordeal. She knew that it would be a miracle if Shaggara’s sanity remained intact after what she had been put through.

 

Gereth’s expressions were more difficult to read. His face seemed more at peace, and his eyes upon seeing her seemed hopeful and relieved, but there was a deep sadness behind them. Zelda’s own eyes began to water as she remembered what he had been made to endure in his trials.

 

“I am so, so sorry,” were the first words out of Zelda’s mouth as her smile disappeared and a look of shame and sorrow filled her refined, pretty features, and for the moment, it was the awkward young princess who was speaking and not her other, deeper persona. “I didn’t want any of this for either of you.”

 

“Do you know what we went through?” Shaggara asked, a growl seeping into her voice.

 

Zelda nodded quickly as a tear fell from her eye. She couldn’t meet the orc’s own eyes. “I couldn’t stop it.” She wept. “I couldn’t interfere. The trials weren’t chosen by me.”

 

The anger slowly faded from Shaggara’s expression and was replaced by acceptance. “What’s done is done, my friend.” She told her. “I have survived it. And what I survive makes me a stronger warrior.”

 

“As have I, my dear.” Gereth agreed. He then asked, searching, “It is you, isn’t it, Zelda?”

 

“As much as I have ever been,” the Princess smiled, her eyes glistening.

 

“And the other?” He asked.

 

“She is still a part of me.” Zelda wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “You could say she is the deepest part of me.” She said. “She is who I have been and will be again.”

 

Gereth paused to consider her answer, and then nodded in acceptance. “As long as we still have our awkward elf princess, I am content.” He grinned.

 

“As am I.” Shaggara smiled with him.

 

Zelda then approached them closer and threw her arms around both of them in as tight of an embrace as she could. “I am so, so very glad you both made it.” She told them.

 

At first, Gereth stiffened from the unfamiliar sensation. He hadn’t been embraced by anyone in many, many years. In fact, the last person he had held in his arms had been his sister as she died; both times he had experienced it. But then, after a moment, his own touch softened, and he was able to return the young woman’s affection. Shaggara likewise returned the embrace warmly. They stayed like that for several minutes before Zelda unwrapped her arms from them. Fresh tears stained her cheeks.

 

“I believe we can...” Gereth started to say, but was then interrupted by a loud, deep, raspy voice shouting, “INTRUDERS! PROTECT THE PORTAL!”

 

Zelda turned around in surprise as the dragonkin warriors all turned as one away from the portal and its platform. Then they all rushed towards the opposite end of the glade known as Bough Shadow.

 

* * *

The monstrous dragonlike warriors charged Link and his companions as soon as they were spotted. The Master Sword was in Link’s clawed, muscular left hand, and his shield was on his right arm as he prepared to meet this new threat.

 

They had arrived in Forest Song hours before. The Kaldorei research team had been receptive, but busy as they continued their work around the ruins. They allowed the four companions to stretch out and rest after their long flight in a small tent reserved for visitors and offered them a small meal of cheese, spiced bread, and fruit.

 

It had been the handkerchief which told them what direction to go next. One of the Night Elves had tried to warn them off from heading in the the direction of the glade known as Bough Shadow, but the piece of cloth was insistent that Zelda was there.

 

Oliver, knowing what lie in that direction assumed his own worgen form in preparation for what lay ahead.

 

“That way’s called Bough Shadow.” He told Link. “It’s a sacred grove, similar to the Twilight Grove in Duskwood. But this glade is still guarded. If your friend is this way, she’ll be in serious danger. It’s no worgen that guard this glade, but Ysera’s own dragonkin warriors. They won’t take kindly to uninvited guests.”

 

That information hadn’t helped Link’s concern for his princess.

 

Link drove into the huge armored warriors, his keen lupine night vision giving him an advantage over his companions. But these were not like the simple pirates he had torn to shreds, or the orc warriors he had decimated in Northshire. Their scaled hides were thick and well armored, and their weapons were massive.

 

The first one he came to felt the slash of his sword as the Master Sword cut through the dragonkin’s scales and blood spilled from its armored front where the nearly humanoid torse was joined with its monstrous dragon’s body, but it didn’t seem to slow the monstrosity down as it brought its own massive sword to bear. Link continued his swing into a backwards spinand on the return backhanded his shield hard into the beast’s face. It seemed stunned after that, and the worgen took the advantage he had been given to run his sword through the creature’s thickly scaled chest. It took the enhanced strength of his worgen’s body to drive the sword through to where he thought the creature’s heart should be.

 

The best cried out in pain and anger, and seemed to crumple for a moment, but then it kept coming at him.

 

“My sword is nearly useless against these monsters!” He heard McBride cry out somewhere close by. In the same direction, out of the corner of his eye he saw flashes of light and energy being directed towards the oncoming dragonkin.

 

 _You’re a Druid now_ , a voice in his head told him. _Use the living nature around you._

 

Link backed up from the badly injured warrior and began to concentrate on _feeling_ the ground, the soil, the worms and insects within it. He felt the grass, and the small creatures that roamed across the tree branches. He felt the hearts of the living trees and their roots…

 

 _The tree roots_.

 

Link focused on the tree roots and with his shield hand motioned upwards. The roots responded by growing and bursting out of the ground. They wrapped themselves around the legs of the dragonkin warrior and held it in place.

 

The worgen warrior then launched himself at the beast, somersaulting high up and over its head. On the backflip he lashed out with the bloodied Master Sword which found its mark and bit hard and deep into the back of the creature’s head where it met the thick neck. Blood spurted in a fountain as Link landed on his feet in a crouch. The dragonkin’s head flopped forward, severed from its backbone. The creature crumpled to its knees and collapsed.

 

Without time to savor the victory, Link pressed on into the glade, pulled by Zelda’s handkerchief towards his princess. In the distance, he could see a Druid’s portal at the crest of a stone platform. It was nearly identical to the one in which he had encountered his mother’s form in this reality. He could see three figures on the platform, though he couldn’t make them out. It didn’t help matters that his eyesight as a worgen was colorblind.

 

 _But I can smell her_.

 

He knew her smell. In every lifetime it had been the same, like a fresh summer’s day, and the flowers of her garden in Hyrule Castle. In those lifetimes he had been intimate with her, as far back as their first life, he knew her more personal scent even better. As a worgen, he could track it for miles.

 

And her scent was dead ahead on the portal platform.

 

Along with the scent of an orc like the ones he had fought, and the decayed scent of an Ordonian’s corpse.

 

_I’m coming, Zelda. Just hold on._

 

So close to his goal, Link attacked the next dragonkin warrior that stood in his way. This time he targeted the creature’s sword arm, and with his animal reflexes literally disarmed the monster before it had the chance to raise its weapon. Its two front legs were next, and the creature crumpled to the ground bleeding to death from the opened arteries and veins.

 

The next two warriors didn’t fair much better as Link discovered their weaknesses and exploited them. He pressed on, single minded in rescuing the woman he had loved for ten thousand years.

 

* * *

 

Zelda stood tense and ready as she watched the wolfish monster advance, taking down more and more of the brave warriors rushing to defend their solemn charge. It fought like the demon it was with a sword and shield. Perversely it wore green and white clothes which resembled that of her Hero.

 

“We should leave, Princess. Now.” Gereth said as he began the incantations for a portal.

 

“What about the guards? We can’t just leave them to die at this monster’s hands.” Zelda protested.

 

“That is a worgen, Princess. The Alliance took them in when Gilneas fell as refugees, and then set them loose on us. We need to leave. If it bites you, you’ll be infected and become one of them.” Shaggara insisted. “Better to leave now than risk life as one of those mindless beasts.”

 

“We can’t just leave the dragonkin to die.” Zelda told them, her expression hardening.

 

The princess stepped forward, the Triforce of Wisdom on her hand shining brightly. Shaggara put her hand on the princess’s shoulder trying to call her back and make her see reason.

 

* * *

 

Princess Zelda started forward towards Link as the last monster between them fell. There were more in the glade, but his main concern was getting her safely away from the two Horde creatures that were holding her.

 

Then the orc put her hand on Zelda trying to restrain her and drag her back. Link launched himself into the air viciously with his enhanced muscles and agility intending to end the orc and return the corpse to its grave.

 

* * *

 

The worgen creature launched itself into the air, its fangs bared and snarling. The sword it carried was poised to strike on landing and Zelda saw that it was aiming for her and her friends.

 

Zelda held out her hands instinctively and a bow and arrows shining with a golden white light appeared in them. Before she had time to process the thought, an arrow was knocked, drawn, and let fly towards the unholy creature. It struck the creature in the middle of the chest with an explosion of light just to the right of what she was sure would have been its heart.

 

Then Zelda’s voice cried out, “Nayru!” calling on the name of Hyrule’s patron goddess of wisdom, raising her hands palms outwards.It felt as if time itself was shaken and nearly stopped as her commanding voice penetrated through the air.

 

A blue shield of energy quickly formed around her and her own companions and the worgen monster slammed into it unexpectedly and hard with a sickening thud. Its body bounced off the shield of Nayru’s Love and hit the stone ramp Zelda was standing on. The sword it held slid down the ramp, and the blue and red painted shield lay at a distance away. A pool of red began to form underneath it.

 

The bow was quickly knocked again, as Zelda prepared to end the monster’s misery. She pulled back on the bowstring with the shaft of light. At that distance, there was no way she could miss its still beating heart.

 

Just as she was about to release, the creature looked at her with eyes so much like _his_. They were confused and in pain. A pained whimper escaped its jaws. And then, it began to _change_.

 

The creature’s jaws and snout shortened into a regular, familiar nose and mouth. Its fangs shrank into teeth more fitting a Hylian. It’s fur disappeared into pale Hylian skin like her own, and its body became less muscular and more athletic. Under the green cap it wore, reddish blond hair emerged.

 

 _Link_? Zelda realized.

 

“LINK!!!” She then screamed in desperation and panic as she realized what she had almost done.

 

Then another voice, a voice which resounded with authority and power, shouted a word of command which filled the glade and forced compliance. Then Zelda realized it came from her own mouth.

 

“STOP! Don’t Kill! Bring them here! NOW!” The ageless voice of the warrior goddess of Hyrule, Hylia’s voice, ordered the dragonkin.

 

The next thing she knew she was on her knees at Link’s side crying out desperately to her friends, “I need healing potion for him! I need it right now!”

 

The terror in her voice screamed that her own world was dying just as the elven warrior in front of Gereth and Shaggara certainly was. But it took several seconds for the events of the last few moments to register in their minds. In those seconds, Link’s lifeblood continued to leave his body.

 

“I NEED A HEALER!!!” Zelda screamed, her face became awash in tears as all of the implications of her actions began to run through her mind.

 

 _He’s not in Hyrule!_ _The Others don’t know! It’s happening too fast for me to help him ascend!_

 

And then a single thought kept repeating itself throughout her consciousness, nearly shutting down her heart and mind.

 

_I’m going to lose him forever! I’ve destroyed my only love!_

 

And then her body began to glow with a radiant light, shining brighter than the daylight.

 

_NEVER! I DON’T CARE WHAT THE OTHERS DO TO ME!!!_

 

And then she felt another’s hand being placed over Link’s chest, and Zelda heard the voice of quiet, but urgent chanting. A second hand then appeared, and it sounded as if an urgent prayer was being made… strangely enough, it felt directed at her and she sensed power flowing from her and into the strange human.

 

Zelda opened her tear filled eyes to find two of the human intruders, their hands placed calmly over Link’s chest, praying and chanting. The one’s hand was shining brightly with Holy Light, her Holy Light. The other’s was awash in a green energy that felt of the forest, and the surrounding nature.

 

The pooling blood reached its end and ceased to flow. Link’s wound, a gaping hole which had run straight through his chest but had just missed his heart, knitted and closed as if on its own. His strong heart continued to beat.

 

And then, as she realized what was happening, the light which had shone so brightly from her began to fade until she was just a young elven woman, weeping and watching over her injured love.

 

“My Lady?” A voice, a human man’s voice, quietly called to her.

 

She didn’t look up, but kept her eyes fixed on the fallen Hero. His breathing rose and fell in regular patterns, but his eyes were closed. He was sleeping.

 

“My Lady, he lives.” The voice said again.

 

It was then she realized it was coming from a third human, one in full plate armor decorated with sigils and crests which she recognized as being from a kingdom not terribly different from her own. She looked up at him, her expression pained and full of sorrow.

 

As she looked in his eyes, she saw the same expression, but also hope.

 

“My Lady, the healers have done their job well. Your Hero lives.” He said, trying to reassure her.

 

She nodded at him that she understood his words, but her eyes became distant, as though trapped in memories eons old.

 

 _He lives_. She repeated in her mind.

 

“Thank you.” She whispered. “My husband lives.”

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 

The sky above Shattrath City was cloudy that late morning. It had been raining earlier in the day, and the air was still pregnant with cool moisture as seven unusual party companions sat or reclined on cushioned couches in the small private inn located up in the area of the reclaimed Draenei city known as “The Scryer’s Tier.”

 

The inn was decorated in the luxurious red and gold styling of the Sindorei. Copious amounts of fruits, meats, and cheeses were placed on a table nearby for guests. The party of seven had taken up nearly all the sleeping couches in the open common room, so they had some measure of privacy behind the gauzy blue curtains as they were the only guests present in the inn.

 

Gereth had opened a portal from Bough Shadow to Shattrath City; the capital city of the other dimension known as Outland, the remnants of the shattered world once known as Draenor. Outside of Dalaran, it was the only other sanctuary city he knew of where races of either Horde or Alliance could mingle and talk with relative freedom without action being taken, or the wrong ears listening.

 

That latter part was ensured by the active spells Gereth had placed on the common room. No one could listen in on their conversation even if they wanted to. This meeting would be too important, he was certain, to leave that to chance. The fate of possibly two worlds hung on it.

 

Though keeping a wary eye on the undead mage and the orc warrior, the human members of the party remained civil until each other’s recent story and part to play had been disclosed and mediated by the Hylian princess. Link remained unconscious through most of it while Brother Garen continues to tend to him. No one could accuse them of suddenly becoming friends after this, but a kind of truce and agreement to work together was called.

 

After taking the time to rest and sleep some, and allowing their grievously injured friend to recover more with further prayers and healing magic, those members of the recently formed party having originated in the world known as Azeroth now called a certain elvish looking princess to speak and disclose to them the whole story about herself, her “husband” as she had called him, and the true story of their origins. With the blight only days from Kalimdor at most, too much was now at stake for them, either Horde or Alliance, to be in the dark about any of it.

 

Zelda did not argue this time, and she did not evade. All the rules by which they had played the game since the beginning had now been broken, and lives, both mortal and immortal, were at stake. This time, as she told the legend which bore her name, she told the whole truth of it, from before the legend began.

 

“Ten thousand years ago,” she began, “There was a shining city floating in an endless sea on a world we knew as _Lantea_. That city was called _Atlantis_. It had been built over a million years before by a race of people, not unlike humans, who had mastered nature, space, and time so well that many who were not as advanced called it magic. One of the technologies they developed was the ability to create portals connecting individual worlds floating in the void. They continued to study, and create, and they filled the worlds they knew of with life, and people much like themselves. They built great ships to travel the void as well, visiting the stars in the sky, and the worlds of the void. The city of Atlantis itself was one such ship, as it had not been originally built on Lantea, but on a world they called Terra which had to be abandoned because of a great plague which broke out.’

 

“The Lanteans, in their great studies and knowledge also studied spiritual matters. In the course of their studies they learned how, through meditation, moral conduct, and the release or abandonment of one’s attachments to the world; they learned how to change their physical being into pure energy and ‘ascend’ to a higher plane of existence upon or near the point of death. Many of them, if not most, practiced the meditation and detachment throughout their lives in order to reach this goal. However, once one ascended, they did not always remain detached from mortal affairs. They gained great power and nearly unlimited knowledge through ascension, and there were some that crossed the line and masqueraded as deities to the mortal populations that the Lanteans had seeded on worlds throughout the void. The other ascended beings would then have to police their own where it became necessary.”

 

“When Link and I were first born, in our first lives, our names were Copulus and Hylia. We grew up as children in the city of Atlantis. My mother, Nayru, was the lead scientist on a project studying the impact on and connection between imagination and reality. Her chief co-scientists were Din, and Farore, Copulus’s mother. By the time, Copulus and I had reached adulthood and were married, I was my mother’s research assistant, and Copulus had become a security officer, a soldier who had requested assignment as part of our research team. We all became a part of the Terra recolonization effort which had begun before we were born.”

 

“When our people first returned to Terra, they found the original city and settlements frozen over in a harsh, ice bound desert. They then sought a new settlement point farther north in a more temperate climate conducive to research. It was there that they discovered, quite by accident, that a new group, a second evolution of the human form, had scattered populations around the planet. When they took a census, it was discovered that there were millions of humans in communities and settlements.”

 

“It was our people’s highest law that they not interfere with the natural development of a people or species, and that they most certainly did not interfere with their free will to choose. For this reason, it was decided that any new Lantean settlements would have to be discreet and not interfere with the native settlements. One of these new settlements was founded in a great cavern in the northern continent of the western hemisphere of the planet, which the expedition team had designated ‘Duo’oni,’ ‘two-one’ in the Lantean language. This is the settlement to which our family and research team relocated from Atlantis.”

 

“It was there, partly through our research, that a breakthrough was made in creating portals without the need for the _Astria Porta_ rings. It was a practical necessity if we wanted to be able to create connections with other world from our cavern settlement. One of the mechanical limitations of using the _Astria_ _Porta_ was that only one could be used at a time if two or more were in close proximity to each other, that is, if they were both on the same world. Terra’s portal ring was far, far away from us in Terra’s southern polar region.”

 

“Each portal ring required a simple address to dial to to make the connection between them. Between worlds that were relatively close to one another, it was a set of seven symbols or runes that designated where in the void the other portal ring was. What our research did was take that basic concept of describing where we wanted to go and expanded it. We found that we could make connections, not just to worlds near by us in the void, but to worlds in other realities entirely that we had not previously visited by describing the world in detail using the same runes as on the _Astria Porta_. They evolved into an entire descriptive written language. This is where the art of writing descriptive books began. We found that any world which could exist somewhere at sometime, did exist. All we had to do was accurately describe it within the book and we could teleport directly there by using it. We soon filled large libraries with these descriptive books, and found that we could gain new materials and supplies by gathering them from the worlds we wrote about and visited. We made contact with Atlantis less and less frequently for this reason.”

 

“One world to which we teleported was noticeably different from all of the others, and we knew it almost as soon as we made the link to it. The environment was highly sensitive to the thoughts and imagination of intelligent beings and the study of it became the focus of our research. We set up a research station there, and naively began to experiment. We didn’t truly understand the nature of the world we had linked to until it became almost too late. We soon discovered that this world was somehow a nexus point between conscious thought and physical reality and that all other worlds and realities were somehow tied into it through the imaginations of the intelligent beings in those other worlds. Put simply, the thoughts, ideas, and imaginations of those people, for example, within Terra, either Terran or Lantean, would be influenced somehow by the events which occurred in that world. This is the world which was later called ‘Hyrule’.”

 

“The research team chose to seed this world with various intelligent beings. One of the favored forms was what you call the elven form as opposed to a standard human form because of its greater hardiness, longevity, and adaptibility. As a result, the first population we seeded in Hyrule was the elven population. Other worlds we had written descriptive books for were Azeroth, and a world we called Mudora, which translated means ‘Middle Earth’. In these worlds as well, we first seeded the elven populations, and then continued with standard human populations as a baseline for a comparison between adaptibility and survivability. We moved back and forth between them setting up research stations and facilities to study the different unique properties of each and continue our introduction of intelligent life to them.”

 

“When we finally made contact with Atlantis again, we found it had been under continuous assault for several years by a parasitic race our people had inadvertently created which we called ‘wraith’. They rest of Lantea’s population had been making plans to evacuate and hide the city at the bottom of Lantea’s ocean for our eventual return once the wraith had given up.”

 

“By this point in time, our parents, and the older members of the team were quite aged, and it became time for them to focus on ascension. We all chose to return to Hyrule to live out our final days in the world we had all come to love and enjoy. The first to go was my mother, Nayru, followed by Din, and then Farore. General Sargeras, a retired soldier who had accompanied us ascended after them. During his tour of military service he had gained the nickname of ‘Demise’ because it had been said of him that once he appeared in a battle, it was the certain ‘demise’ of the enemy. After another two decades of watching our friends and family either die or ascend, it became time for me to join them as well. Copulus followed afterwards.”

 

“My memories of my time as one of the ascended are not as clear, but I will try to continue the best I can. After his ascension, Sargeras, Demise, became obsessed with maintaining order and control among the mortal populations. He saw them as too chaotic and self-destructive and saw himself as the only viable option for ruling them. He began interfering, masquerading as a deity which was forbidden to us. By the time we responded though it became clear that we had allowed him to become too dangerous. He had amassed a great amount of power through the belief in him of his followers, too much for any one of us alone to contain or control him.”

 

“What was worse though was that his obsession with power and control began to throw the delicate nexus of Hyrule out of balance and into chaos. I myself led the fight against him to contain him and seal him away. But we all knew that the seal wouldn’t hold forever. So several plans and safeguards were put into place. All of us knew that the damage Demise had done to Hyrule was too significant for us to remain aloof any longer. We had to actively work to maintain and stabilize the balance of the world or else it would fall into total chaos and drag every other world along with it. This became Nayru’s, Din’s, and Farore’s primary responsibility. The Others of us also worked with them and under their direction. But they also realized that should Demise break free again, they would be too busy maintaining the world to assist in the fight against him to protect the mortal populations.”

 

“They then created the original device we originally called the _Trevirti_ , or the ‘Three Virtues’ so that mortals who demonstrated the moral virtues necessary would be able to fight back against Demise and his followers. What we now call a ‘Triforce’. It was designed in such a way so that only a mortal could make use of it. However, it became clear later on that, because Demise knew of the other worlds accessible through the Descriptive books and the _Astria Porta_ , those worlds would also be at risk. So, _Trevirti_ were created and seeded through those worlds as well in the event that he was able to somehow access them. The Golden Flame is one such _Trevirti_.”

 

“Hyrule would be the first line of defense against him, but we knew, because of the power he had amassed, it would not be the only battleground. We also knew that the seal would not hold forever. The second line of defense would be me. I volunteered to periodically resume mortal form to watch over Hyrule as a mortal and fight directly against Demise using the Triforce as necessary. I was limited to only those abilities which any other mortal had the potential to gain access to during these periods. To ensure that all of the devices that would only respond to my personal imprint would continue to operate, I engineered the genetic material of my first mortal reincarnation to only produce offspring that were exact copies of my own genetic material. These mortal incarnations were designated ‘Zeldas’ or ‘Paladins’ in your language. This mortal form I now have is an exact replica of my original first reincarnation. If I were to have a daughter, she too would possess this exact form in every detail.”

 

“However, though I led the fight against Demise, I had never been a soldier or a warrior in my first lifetime. A backup plan was initiated at the same time. That backup plan was my husband, Copulus. He volunteered to reincarnate with me every cycle to be my protection and make the difference where my own skills might fail. He became the ‘Link’ that held the cycle together and kept our world in balance. Farore however refused to allow his total physical reincarnation to be left to chance and genetics. She has personally overseen his conception and childhood every time, while my mother has been more content to oversee from a distance.”

 

“The most difficult thing would be that neither of us would be born with our full memories. If nothing occurred during that cycle, then we may never meet in that lifetime. It would take an extreme event to trigger our deeper memories. The ultimate trigger was to be if we kissed. This would awaken our memories back to our first selves. It has occurred before in some lifetimes, but not most. It has never occurred in the way it has now.”

 

“Thus it has been now for the last ten thousand years. In many ways, we have been fortunate up until now in protecting Hyrule, and by extension the rest of the worlds connected to it. Though it is clear now to me that there have been times when Demise has escaped Hyrule and his imprisonment to torment and ruin other worlds before returning to Hyrule to take his revenge on us. So far, we have managed to stop him and confine him every time.”

 

Zelda finished her story and became quiet, looking to the faces of each of the individual persons in the room. Link, who had been conscious for it, nodded silently in agreement as he sat up against pillows on the red cushioned sleeping couch.

 

She looked first to her friends, Gereth and Shaggara. They had experienced the most with her to confirm what she had said. There was no surprise in their expressions, only contemplation and reflection.

 

For the humans however there was agitation, and a visible struggle going on within their hearts and minds at the new revelation given them. Doubtless it was not the ancient history as they had learned it. She also had little doubt that it challenged much of what they believed about themselves, but it couldn’t be helped.

 

It was the human cleric, Brother Garen who was the first to speak and respond. “I saw with my own eyes last night the truth of what you are, my Lady. This is not difficult to believe. The Draenei call your kind, in your ‘ascended’ state as you call it, Naaru or so I have heard from visitors to Northshire Abbey. But as to the rest, are you then saying that your people created us? All of us? You are the Titans and gods of old?”

 

Zelda hesitated before she answered. “That is a difficult question for me to answer. I am no deity. I never have been. None of us ever have been. But the power and knowledge ascension gives to a being is phenomenally greater than any mortal can possess, and it is made even greater by mortals surrendering their wills to one in belief. And yes, though not myself personally, my people were the ones who first reshaped this world, made it habitable, and filled it with its native peoples.”

 

Then Marshall McBride spoke up, “You say you are not gods, and yet you yourself have assumed the role of one, not to mention these Others that you spoke of.” His voice expressed skepticism and disapproval.

 

“In our world, we tried very hard to keep our existence and the existence of the cycle a secret from all but those who needed to know it. Worship of our mothers was discouraged by letting the people believe that they had left the world after creating it. Link is always born to an unknown woman in a hidden or out of the way village far from Castle Town. But worship and belief in a deity, however false that deity might be, is still a matter of choice and free will. We will not take that choice from them.” Zelda explained.

 

“This wasn’t the existence we wanted.” Link spoke up, his voice tired. “It was the only way to keep all worlds and realities tied to ours from unraveling because of our mistakes. If we could, we’d end it right now and return to be with the Others.”

 

Zelda nodded at his statement.

 

“So then why don’t you?” McBride asked.

 

“Because we can’t. Demise can’t be killed. At least not by us. He can only be fought, weakened, and sealed away.” Link replied.

 

“You said that Azeroth also has a, what did you call it, a ‘Triforce’?” Oliver then asked. “Where is it now?”

 

Zelda then looked to Gereth and Shaggara. She had not seen what occurred in the Emerald Dream, only what had happened up until that point. She did not know who bore it or if they brought it from Ysera’s realm.

 

Gereth then looked at Shaggara and Shaggara took off the dragonscale gauntlet of her left hand, and showed them the back of it. Three perfect, whole triangles made of light gleamed from it.

 

“The Golden Flame was whole, and there was no way or reason to sunder it between the two of us.” Gereth explained. “I asked Shaggara to carry it back with us. I...” He stopped himself and paused for a second before he said, “Shaggara has far more self-discipline than I do.”

 

“So then you possess the power to stop this? To heal Northrend and set things right?” Oliver asked the Orc warrior woman. “Why haven’t you yet?”

 

“Demise must be weakened first. We can do that, but we need to engage him directly.” Link responded. “I know this from experience. When he escapes his confinement he engages a mortal host, either willing or unwilling. His last host, an ambitious sorceror named Ganondorf, carries the final piece of Hyrule’s Triforce, the Triforce of Power. By possessing him, Demise found a way around the built in safeguard of the Triforce, and can use it to amplify his own power on this plane of existence.”

 

“So then, how do you stop an evil god?” McBride asked. “And how do you imprison him?”

 

Link then drew the Master Sword from its scabbard on his back and held it blade downwards to display it for them to see. “With this.” He told him. “The Master Sword.”

 

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand. I’ve seen your skill with a blade, certainly. But how does a mere sword contain a god?” McBride asked again.

 

Zelda then picked up where Link left off. “The Master Sword,” She gestured first towards Link, and then she gestured towards Shaggara, “and the Sword of Mastery are both what our people called _Lamnae Claviae_ , ‘key blades’. They were originally designed to facilitate the opening of portals between worlds and different realities. They are capable of calling forth tremendous energies from specific sources and releasing it either as a weapon, or to open a portal. Being independently intelligent, they have other uses and capabilities as well. I crafted the Master Sword myself. Farore crafted the Sword of Mastery. Others existed at one time, though I do not know their fates.”

 

“Intelligent swords?” McBride asked in disbelief.

 

Link returned his sword to its sapphire blue scabbard, and said dryly, “Sometimes too much so.” He then said, “The two Swords will weaken him enough, and then with the combined power of the Triforces, we should be able to open the portal to the dimension where he can be imprisoned safely.”

 

“Yes, but we do still have one problem among several.” Oliver spoke up again. “Link was the only living being capable of setting foot off the boat to Northrend. The rest of us could not.”

 

“The Triforce of Courage protected me.” Link replied.

 

“Gereth is undead,” Oliver said reasoning out his thought, “so he would not be affected. Shaggara is in possession of the Golden Flame. And Zelda is also in possession of a Triforce. That makes four of you that are protected from this blight. The three of us would be dead within minutes once we set foot on Northrend’s shores.”

 

“I’ll not be left behind. I owe you my life now twice over, Link. I swore to help you find your friend _and_ see you home safely. McBrides don’t let their debts go unpaid.” Marshall McBride told him.

 

Shaggara’s head snapped to McBride’s direction, an expression of recognition and pain on her face though she said nothing.

 

“And neither will I.” Brother Garen said as well.

 

 _This is a world of heroes born and bred._ Zelda thought to herself as the men spoke up.

 

“Could the Triforce be used to protect us as well?” Oliver asked. “Or will it only protect its bearer?”

 

“The whole Triforce amplifies the belief of the person who wields it to bend reality to match the belief.” Zelda told him. “Each partition of the Triforce is meant to amplify a certain virtue, Wisdom, Power, or Courage.”

 

“What about Holy Light?” Brother Garen asked suddenly, his expression bright as though something had just come into his mind. “Could a Triforce amplify Divine Magic if it came through a mortal?”

 

“What do you propose?” Zelda asked.

 

“The power of a priest comes solely through the power of belief in either the Holy Light or the Shadow. By faith, we can heal, we can injure, and we can also call on the Light to shield us from attack. Perhaps a mortal might teach a goddess something she does not know?” Brother Garen offered humbly. “Perhaps, between the two of us, we can keep my friends here and I from meeting a poor fate.”

 

A half smile formed on Zelda’s face as he explained his proposal.

 

After he was done, and Zelda agreed that it was worth a try, Gereth then spoke up, “And I think I might have a way to minimize the time you would have to keep up the spell by taking us directly to Dalaran without having to cross overland on foot.”

 

“How?” Zelda asked.

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

 

Zelda sat beside Link alone in the common sleeping area of the inn on the Scryer’s tier. The others were down in the lower sections of the city purchasing supplies from the various merchants and traders for the next leg of their journey. Northrend could be cold, very, very cold, and none of them were outfitted for the extreme temperatures they were to face.

 

The Hylian warrior’s strength was still returning steadily thanks to the nearly constant attentions of the master Druid and Brother Garen, but blood took some time to regenerate even with the aid of a healer, and he had lost a lot of it from the arrow wound. A flask of purified Draenic water stood on a side table next to the red cushioned bed where he lay. Zelda held a cup for him and refilled it when Link had drained it.

 

They had both been silent for some time as she nursed him. Back in Hyrule, it would have been seen as inappropriate to her station to play the nurse for her bodyguard, but they weren’t in Hyrule right now, and she had her full memory of their deep, deep history. This unknown warrior from the backwater village in Ordon was far more to her than just her bodyguard.

 

Finally, it was Link who broke the silence, “I remember you being a better shot with the bow. You missed my heart.” He said this with a grin.

 

A look of pain crossed Zelda’s face and her eyes began to glisten over again. But then as she saw the smile with which he said it, she relaxed a little and replied with just a touch of sass, “Well, you were moving and I’m out of practice. I’ll be sure to run you through the heart properly next time.”

 

“You already did that millennia ago.” He returned smoothly.

 

Zelda grinned at him girlishly.

 

Link laughed, his eyes bright. “I’m glad you remember. It’s always easier when we both remember.”

 

“It’s easier when you look like you and not like some monster from Faron Province.” She retorted. Then real tears began to fall again. “I could have killed you, Link. I could have lost you, and then the Others wouldn’t have been there to help you ascend again.” There was a touch of anger in her voice mixed with the pain and guilt of knowing what she’d done to him, and what she’d almost done.

 

“But you didn’t.” Link replied gently. “We’ve both been through worse than this how many times now?”

 

“Too many.” She replied. “Too many to count. They’ve all blurred together.”

 

“I was trying to protect you, you know.” Link told her. “From the Orc and the undead creature.”

 

“If you knew both of them, you’d know they’d both give their lives just to protect me or any other friend. Even you.” Zelda replied defensively. “And her name is Shaggara. That undead creature’s name is Gereth. They went through the trials and were found worthy of the Triforce. That alone should tell you everything you need to know about them. Shaggara reminds me of Impa when she was still young.”

 

“From what I’ve heard of and seen from the Orcs I’ve encountered in this world, I find that hard to believe.” Link replied.

 

A look of reproof spread across Zelda’s face as she said, “I watched her nearly sacrifice herself defending a helpless human family while fighting her own kinsmen. Don’t you dare speak badly of her or her people. And Gereth has had far more than his own share of suffering.”

 

Link was silent for a moment, then he asked, “That was her trial, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes.” Zelda replied sharply.

 

“I’m sorry.” Link said, remembering the harshness of the trials he had been made to face throughout the considerable span of his own existence.

 

“Here, drink.” She said, putting the cup of water to his lips.

 

He took the cup, his hand closed over her own for a moment, and then drank.

 

“I’ve been confused since I arrived about who is the hero and who is the monster.” Link said after he took the cup away from his mouth again. “I can’t say I’ve been entirely the hero.” He said in a sober voice, and then he told her about the Bloodsail ship.

 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She said when he finished. “I don’t understand why the Triforce of Courage or the Master Sword didn’t protect you from this ‘infection’.”

 

“It did in a way, it protected who I am by awakening all of my deeper memories. But it permitted the physical transformation. My mother told me not to fight it, but to make use of it.” Link replied.

 

“You spoke with Farore?” Zelda asked, surprised. “She’s here? In Azeroth?”

 

“Not exactly.” Link replied. “I spoke with Ysera through the _astria porta_ to the Emerald Dream.”

 

“Oh.” Zelda replied. “The Dragon Lady.”

 

“Not how I would address her, but yes.” Link grinned. “I can’t say I fully understand how she manifests in the different forms and personalities she does. But it was my mother, nonetheless.”

 

“She still watches over you.” Zelda observed. “Nothing much has changed in ten thousand years.”

 

“She still watches over both of us.” Link returned. “As has Nayru.”

 

“My mother doesn’t follow me through dimensional portals, or be there every time I’m reborn to nurse me herself.” Zelda replied dryly.

 

Link cocked a half smile at the thought as he took another sip of water. His mother had always been both impulsive and somewhat overprotective. It hadn’t really changed after her ascension.

 

His smile then faded as he said. “I was really worried for you. After everything I had been told about the Orcs and the Horde, I thought I was going to find you in a deep dark dungeon someplace waiting to be someone’s supper.”

 

Zelda laughed a light, airy amused laugh. “Actually, Gereth and Shaggara took me to tell stories to orphans, wined and dined me, and took me to shop at an expensive fashionable tailor.” She then gestured to her own clothing. “Designs by Keelen of Silvermoon City.”

 

“Ugh. Always the spoiled princess.” Link retorted as he considered his own experiences in Azeroth.

 

“Oh, Absolutely!” Zelda agreed playfully.

 

“I need to stand up.” Link then said as he set his water cup down. “I need to walk around for a bit and get some fresh air. Here, help me up.” He then told her.

 

She helped him stand. Surprisingly after his injury, he was able to do it without too much assistance. “I think that Draenic water is doing whatever it’s supposed to do.” Link said. My head is clearing up really well. I want to walk outside and see the city while we are still here.”

 

Zelda then helped him out beyond the blue gauze curtain. A Sindorei desk clerk with long, well groomed red hair greeted them both with a friendly smile he only reserved for his own people. He wore a white silken shirt and dark loosely laced vest.

 

“I see our young hero is feeling better!” The innkeeper said.

 

“Yes, thank you.” Link said, taking tentative, but sure steps. “Just wanted to get some fresh air outside.”

 

“Absolutely!” The innkeeper replied. “Your party is all paid up. The common room is entirely yours until tomorrow. Feel free to explore the city as much as you can. Though stay away from the Aldor Rise. They tend to be more unwelcoming to our people.”

 

“Will do, thanks.” Link responded as Zelda walked close by his side.

 

The soreness in his chest and back had faded and been replaced by a general stiffness and slowness in his limbs and a slight tingling in his fingertips and toes. He found himself just a little bit dizzy from standing up, and that made him move much more slowly than he would have like. The arrow had not only come close to penetrating his heart, but it had punctured a lung and sliced through part of his backbone and spinal cord. An arrow of light was a devastating weapon that had few if any countermeasures.

 

He couldn’t complain though. The kind of injury he had received might not have been fully treatable in Castle Town or the dispersed small towns of Hyrule. A Great Fairy might have been able to treat it if one had been available, but their grottos and fountains were incredibly difficult to find unless you already knew where one might be. If this had happened back home, the best outcome he could have hoped for would have been still being alive. Living with a punctured lung and paralyzed might not have been avoidable.

 

As the couple emerged from the curving, elegant building which served as the inn, they encountered a kind of small bazaar of merchants and carts selling all manner of fruits, foods, weapons, herbs, and almost anything you could think of. The air was heavy with the scent of misty forest mingled with the spices of the prepared foods for sale.

 

They walked through the carts and away from the gathered buyers and sellers who seemed to represent virtually every race they had encountered since arriving in Azeroth regardless of political faction. Shattrath seemed to be a melting pot where no one paid much attention to Azeroth’s social and political conventions. Common cause had driven them to work together and set aside their differences as Orcs and Blood elves conversed freely with Dwarves, humans, and Night Elves who had made the Scryer’s Tier their home for the moment.

 

The two went and stood at the stone railing overlooking the rest of the city. As they did, Link took Zelda’s hand gently and held it firmly with affection. They then just stood there, hand in hand gazing at the alien yet familiar scene.

 

Shattrath was a city laid out like a great wheel it seemed. It was backed up to a high mountain range where the Scryer’s tier and the other section of the city, Aldor Rise were located. The center or hub of the city was a great structure like a temple. A great beacon of pure light erupted from the peak of the temple. On the periphery of the circle were other, curved and elegantly shaped buildings, though neither of the two knew what they were. In the distance, on the far edge of the rim of the wheel there was an artificial canyon that dipped into the earth. Some canvas and poles could just barely be seen down in this canyon from their vantage point.

 

And just beyond the city to the immediate east and south could be seen what looked to be a nearly endless, misty forest of trees. To the northeast the mountains which formed the backing of the city curved around and dropped into a natural pass between them. They then rose again to form an even higher chain extending eastwards.

 

The sight was majestic, awe inspiring, and peaceful to the two Hylians as they held each other’s hand.

 

“It’s so beautiful. I wish we could just stay here and not go back.” Zelda whispered to him as she put her head on his shoulder.

 

“Back where? To Azeroth or Hyrule?” Link asked.

 

“Both.” Zelda replied.

 

“I wish that too.” Link returned, his voice filled with a fatigue born of more than just his injury. “I wish Demise had never ascended in the first place. Whatever good man existed before died the day he transformed. I wish that there was some way to just end him once and for all instead of reliving this same nightmare over and over again.”

 

“It hasn’t all been a nightmare, has it?” Zelda asked, looking up at him.

 

Link slipped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head tenderly. “No.” He replied. “It hasn’t.”

 

“Do you wonder sometimes if there really are deities beyond those who ascend? Some higher power beyond us?” Zelda asked. “I know it’s silly to think that way considering, but sometimes I do.”

 

“I hope so.” Link replied thoughtfully. “Given what we’ve been up against, I’ll take all the help we can get.”

 

Then, from their vantage point, Link spied the forms of his human companions returning to the lift elevator from the temple level to the Scryer’s Tier. They looked to be carrying several packages with them.

 

“McBride and the other humans aren’t bad men either.” Link told her. “The Marshall especially has reason to hate Orcs. His lands and property were overrun and taken from him by them and his wife died at their hands as well. It’s not going to be easy getting him to trust Shaggara, much less Gereth.”

 

 _McBride…_ _I know that name_. Zelda thought to herself.

 

Out loud she said, “They’re all going to need to give each other a chance if this is going to succeed. They’ve got a common purpose now and a common enemy. In the craft of war, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

 

“In the craft of war...” Link repeated. “Let’s hope those rules hold true in this ‘warcraft’ as well.”

 

* * *

 

Seven figures in heavy, dark, netherweave cloaks walked deliberately and with purpose south on the well traveled road between the Forsaken town of Brill and the ruins of the once great fortified city of Lordaeron overlooking the inland sea known as Lordamere Lake. Though it should have been the middle of the day, it was so dark and overcast it might as well have been the middle of the night.

 

The walls and towers of the great city appeared in the distance from quite some distance off, and now as they drew close to the original home of the Paladin order, the true majesty and magnificence of the fallen city was revealed even more, as was the sorrow in the heart of more than one of the travelers who had known it before its unholy transformation.

 

Each of the travelers had a heavy cowl over their heads, obscuring their features. They spoke to each other only in whispers, and to others they met on the road not at all except for the undead mage who led them. In other parts of the hemisphere of Azeroth known as the Eastern Kingdoms, this might have been met with suspicion and called into question. In Tirisfal Glades, however, it was met with respect by other passersby on the road who valued their own privacy, and the party was left alone to its own devices and fate. The undead did not welcome strangers prying into affairs that did not concern them, and likewise returned the favor.

 

They had been walking on the road for over an hour in this fashion, though they did not come directly from Brill. They had arrived through a mage’s portal not far into the surrounding woods, though far enough away from the town to avoid too close of an inspection.

 

They had passed a number of other travelers on the road. There had been a relatively friendly merchant on his return trip to Brill from the Forsaken city under the ruins of Lordaeron. His skin was an unnatural blue, and his lower jaw couldn’t seem to close right. He was one of the few who had stopped and spoken with the figure at the head of the party trying to sell some fresh mushrooms, and herbs for potion making from his cart. Many others passed by them as well, none paid any attention except for a little girl who looked to be about ten or eleven years old. At least, that was the age several of the travelers had guessed her at when she became undead. Her head turned and glanced at them while she was following behind the walking corpse of a woman in a ragged dress who was admonishing her, “Keep up, Muriel and don’t stare! It’s not polite!”

 

The city however was not the goal of the travelers as, at the direction of the mage, they veered to the right off the main road and towards two stone and wood towers which stood just north of the entry to the ruins. The function of the twin towers was largely just to enclose wooden steps meant to reach upper platforms which jutted out from the buildings high off the ground. Instead of heading up to the buildings immediately, the travelers stood for a moment to assess the scene.

 

Docked at all platforms at the moment were large airships bearing the colors and livery of the Horde; Goblin designed and operated zeppelins. They appeared to be much like light sea going vessels with the glaring exception of the huge gas filled cloth balloons lashed to them with sturdy ropes and cords keeping them aloft in the air. Large spinning fan shaped propellers projected off the stern of the ships from a brace contraption up near the balloons.

 

The eastern tower seemed busy with traffic, and a large group of people of various races stood on both the upper and lower platforms waiting to load aboard the docked and waiting ships. The western tower however was strangely silent and apparently unused. The single zeppelin which was tethered there, its balloon shaped like a predatory sea creature, had no passengers waiting to either load or unload. And unlike the busy eastern tower, there did not appear to be any goblins maintaining or operating this one at the moment.

 

 _It’s as I thought. They shut it down quickly enough once they realized something was wrong._ The undead leader of the party thought to himself. _There aren’t even any guards on the upper levels that I can see._

 

“You were right, mage,” one of the travelers addressed the leader, “no one bothered us at all. I thought for certain we would be spotted several times.”

 

“Why should they?” Gereth asked, though he was certain what the soldier’s answer would be. He wasn’t disappointed.

 

“I thought your people could smell living flesh from a mile away.” McBride responded.

 

“Only when the living haven’t bathed for a week.” Gereth retorted dryly. “Contrary to what you may think, not all of us go hunting babes in cradles for our next meal. Most of the people we just passed have been so hurt by the rejection of their remaining living friends and families that they want nothing more to do with any of you. They just want to spend the remainder of their undeaths in peace. None of us asked to be this way. We weren’t given the choice.”

 

“Tell that to the people of Hillsbrad.” McBride responded, an edge to his voice. “They weren’t given the choice either.”

 

Gereth didn’t respond. McBride couldn’t have seen the pained expression on his face under the cowl. The Forsaken mage didn’t choose to reveal it either.

 

“So what is this plan of yours?” McBride asked.

 

Gereth gestured towards the zeppelin towers. “There is our way into Northrend.” He said.

 

McBride stared in disbelief at the mage, “That’s your plan? To gain passage on a zeppelin and hope no one notices us the entire voyage there?” The human soldier clearly thought the mage’s brains had completely rotted.

 

Gereth snorted in derision, “Look at the western tower. That’s the dirigible that is outfitted for Northrend’s colder climate. The others will freeze over and crash if they attempt to fly into it. The western tower is empty and the zeppelin’s lights are dark. And I never said anything about asking for permission. The Bilgewater Cartel would never risk a loss on their investment in this business like that.”

 

“Then….?” McBride asked.

 

“We’re going to steal it.” Gereth responded. He then added, “They’re not using it right now anyway.”

 

They continued up the pathway to the zeppelin docks. But rather than make their way to the busy eastern tower, they skirted it and then quietly stopped to survey the quiet, western tower from a short distance. Like all down the road, and in front of the entry way to the other tower, two lampposts glowing with a deathly greenish light stood in front of the double wooden doors. Unlike the other tower, those double doors were closed. Two undead guards, heavily armed with plate and mail armor stood watch on opposite sides of the entry way. Sharp, well cared for swords hung at their waists, and heavy shields adorned their off hands.

 

“We will need to deal with the guards at the empty tower.” A raspy female voice spoke up. “With the zeppelin not running, there will no doubt be questions as to why we are there.”

 

“Leave the guards to me, my dear.” Gereth responded. “Remember that special package I purchased from the bartender in Shattrath?”

 

“Dispatch them quickly. We won’t have much time.” McBride told him, his eyes on the guards at the entry to the other tower, and the people coming and going from it.

 

“I have no intention of ‘dispatching them’.” Gereth replied in disgust. “And you think I’m the monster? Do you go around killing Stormwind guards just doing their duty? There are other, less lethal ways to keep them from sounding the alarm. Wait here.” Then, under his breath as he walked towards the tower Gereth muttered as he shook his head, “That fool’s going to get us all killed.”

 

Gereth approached the guards and spoke with them. The rest of the party couldn’t hear what was being said, but it appeared Gereth was carrying on a good conversation with them as the guards began laughing with him. He then produced a flask and took a sip of it, then offering it to each of the guards who then gladly each took long drinks. Within seconds, both guards were on the ground unconscious. Gereth then motioned to his companions to follow him.

 

“What was that you gave them?” Shaggara asked him.

 

“Black Label Rumsey Rum and a little sleeping powder. Goes down smooth and will give them sweet dreams for hours.” Gereth replied.

 

“Why didn’t it affect you?” McBride asked, his eyebrow raised.

 

“Who said I actually drank any?” Gereth replied. “Sleight of hand is the oldest form of magic, my dear Marshall.” He then took the flask and placed in the hand of one of the sleeping guards. “The alcohol in the rum will dissolve the sleeping powder and deactivate it by the time they awaken. It will be untraceable. It’s excellent rum. It’s only right they get something in exchange for this.” He explained.

 

“Why did they trust you?” McBride asked, his expression skeptical. “Do they know you?”

 

“I am Forsaken, just like them. They had no reason to not trust me. We’re the only family each other has.” Gereth replied as he studied the lock on the door. With a few quick words whispered at the door, the lock clicked and the door swung open with a creaking sound. The inside of the building was dark.

 

“ _Phosiste_.” Gereth whispered to the staff he walked with, and the crystal which topped it lit up with a gentle light. “Come quickly.” He whispered, motioning to the others.

 

They all hurried into the building and then, watching to make sure no one else was, Gereth closed the door gently behind them, making sure to fix the lock in place once again.

 

The structure around them had been closed to the public for only a few days at most. It was dusted and kept in good repair. Directly opposite the set of doors they had come in was another set of doors leading to the back of the structure. To the left of the entry was a purple stained glass window, to the right was a broad set of wooden stairs which led upwards.

 

Gereth took the lead once more and the party headed up the wooden steps. They led up to a landing with another flight of steps that twisted around the outside of the tower. Hoping that no one would be paying attention, they hurried as quietly as they could up those steps as well until the next platform which led to yet another flight of stairs upwards.

 

The wooden platform dock at the top of the tower was empty of either passengers, dock workers, or crew. At the far end of it was the empty zeppelin which had been secured to the dock with lines and ropes. On the side of the airship’s wooden hull was painted in block letters, _The Mighty Wind_.

 

They boarded the airship and inspected it. There was only the single deck, and a very low railing around the edge. To the fore of the deck was a riding seat above pedals with levers set into the deck just forward of it. The last thing it looked like was safe to travel on for either passengers or crew.

 

“I hate to bring this up now, but does anyone have any idea as to how to fly this thing?” Oliver asked looking around as the seven of them went aboard. “I doubt our recent experience aboard the _Maiden’s Virtue_ counts towards one of these ships.”

 

Several pairs of eyes went to Gereth.

 

“Shaggara and I have been aboard these contraptions numerous times, and I have paid careful attention. This propeller,” he gestured to the large propeller at the stern of the ship, “runs on a kind of engine, not much different from the steam engine used in many of the sea ships that travel to Northrend. As far as I can tell, the engine is set into motion through the pedaling of a goblin pilot there.” He then gestured to a seat with pedals that had been set into the foredeck. “Once the zeppelin is set into motion, the air rushing into that structure there,” he then pointed to a long cylinder that jutted forward of the balloon housing, “feeds the engine and keeps the propeller turning faster and faster. The zeppelin rises, lowers, and turns with the levers set into the deck next to the pedal seat. The average trip time to Vengeance Landing is no more than a day. I would estimate that we may be able to cross all of Northrend and reach Dalaran in no more than two. We can check our course and trajectory periodically with the assistance of our two Druid friends and their own flight abilities.”

 

Oliver and Garen then untied the ship from its moorings while McBride attempted to seat himself in the pedal seat which was obviously built for a creature much smaller than himself, and not wearing armor. He soon found that he couldn’t move his knees enough to turn the pedals.

 

“Please, allow me.” Gereth said as he motioned for McBride to vacate the seat.

 

With a few words, Gereth passed his hand over the pedals and they came to life on their own. The gears they were attached to began to rotate. As they did, floodlights above them and to the fore of the ship came on and blasted purplish light around the front of the air vessel announcing their presence to everyone. The engines of the vessel sputtered and then burst into loud noisy life. Then, the great propeller at the stern of the vehicle began to spin slowly at first, picked up speed, and then it appeared to disappear altogether as a humming sound grew louder and louder.

 

Several confused cries and shouts went up from the ground and the other tower, and a great bell was rung nearby with several clangs.

 

Then the airship started to move slowly forward and away from the docking platform as the yelling from the ground continued. Then the sound of heavy boots were heard on the wooden steps of the tower. Soon, undead and Orc soldiers were on the wooden platform brandishing crossbows and swords. Several short, green goblins in red and brown leather uniforms were shouting unintelligible curses and threats, shaking their fists and pointing furiously at the air ship thieves.

 

But _The Mighty Wind_ had already left the dock.

 

The Horde soldiers shot bolts towards the airship, and then the goblins turned and began shouting and cursing at them to stop. They motioned and gestured furiously towards the engaged engines of the zeppelin and the buildings and people still on the ground. The soldiers finally lowered their weapons, expressions of frustration evident on their faces.

 

The last thing the thieves heard clearly was a goblin voice shouting so loud all of Tirisfal Glades might have heard him, “DAMN FOOLS!!!”

 

Oliver then took the controls of the vessel. Being the only one aboard with any significant flight experience, albeit as a bird of prey, he attempted to pilot the ship the best he could. After a few quick and nearly disastrous experiments with the controls, he brought the airship up above the treeline, and set a course northwest for the northern continent of Northrend.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 

The air was cold and getting colder as the zeppelin sped northwest high above the waters of the seas north of Tirisfal Glades. True night had fallen as it flew quickly through the air and the purplish floodlights were now, besides the light from Gereth’s staff, the only way for anyone to see anything as the only moon which was visible was the smaller, darker one known as “The Blue Child.” “The White Lady,” the larger and brighter of the two moons, was deep into her waning phase.

 

Link and Oliver had been taking turns patrolling ahead of the airship in their strong and fast flight forms, making sure they continued on the correct course, until almost all of their light to see with had gone. Now, they stayed aboard the zeppelin, not wanting to lose themselves as well as their companions in the dark night. They were certain they would have to make course corrections by morning.

 

The waters below them had already turned foul, and were full of dead and decaying fish and creatures of the sea floating on the surface of the vast ocean. The greenish black leading edge of the blighted water had begun not far from the coastline of Tirisfal Galdes, perhaps only an hour or two after they had crossed high over the beach. The stench from it reached even to their altitude it was so vast and great.

 

After an explanation of the zeppelin’s controls by Oliver, and a brief instruction on flight and the use of wind currents, each of the party members took turns operating the zeppelin for a while in shifts.

 

By that point in time, it had been Marshall McBride’s turn at the helm. It was nothing like he had ever done before, but he soon adapted and managed to keep them level at a good altitude. He would have guessed they maintained at about six hundred feet or so above the water.

 

It was while he was piloting the craft, and several others in the party were taking their sleep, that Shaggara approached him. She wore the heavy netherweave cloak to keep herself warm in the cold night air, but with the cowl down. She came to stand next to him, though did not face him. Instead she faced to the fore of the airship, the same as he. The expression on her face was difficult to read, but then he had little experience trying to understand the emotions of Orcs.

 

Shaggara spoke first. “You are from the human McBride Clan?”

 

McBride smirked. He’d never heard it put quite that way. “Yes. That’s my family name.”

 

Shaggara then went silent again for several minutes as she stared into the night ahead of them. Then she asked, “Does the name Roland McBride mean anything to you?”

 

McBride’s expression took on an annoyance. “What’s it to you?” He asked roughly.

 

Most humans McBride knew would get the hint at that point, but to McBride it seemed like the Orc woman took it as normal speech. _Maybe to them it is_. _Probably, come to think of it._

 

She continued talking, either not understanding the “go away” behind the words, or not caring. “Roland McBride was a small boy. The son of a settler and his wife in the Blasted Lands when they were still called the Black Morass along with the Swamp of Sorrows.”

 

 _How did she know that?_ He asked himself, the annoyance fading, though his face remained otherwise stoic.

 

“What about him?” He asked.

 

“As part of my trial to carry this,” she held up the back of her left hand and removed the dragon scale guantlet to show him the three solid triangles that formed the mark, “I was forced to fight my own people in defense of this family.” Her hand dropped again and she slid the green and purple guantlet back on. “My own people died. If it hadn’t been for this boy’s father, I would have as well. I don’t know if it was real or not. I just wondered what might have happened to the boy and his family.”

 

McBride then turned his head to look at the Orc woman. He did more than just glance. He studied her features, the small tusks that protruded from her mouth, and the shape of her face.

 

 _No… That was half a century ago. I was barely three years old._ The thought raced through his mind. _They all look alike to me. Magic can do many strange and marvelous things, it’s true. I’ve seen it myself. But this woman… It can’t be, can it?_

 

“Why would you do that?” McBride asked aloud as he looked at her. “Why would you care about a human family alone in the marshlands? Why would any Orc care about humans at all?”

 

“Many of my people do not.” Shaggara responded, still looking forward into the dark.

 

“But why would you?” McBride pressed.

 

“Because they could not defend themselves.” Shaggara responded. “Because I didn’t want to see that boy grow up as...” She paused, and a look of pain shot through her face before it passed again and the warrior’s own internal strength took over. “I didn’t want the boy to be an orphan like I was. And I didn’t want to leave parents bereft of their child.”

 

It was only then that she turned her head and met his eyes as she asked, “Do you know this boy? Do you know what happened to him?”

 

McBride felt himself caught in the sincerity of the Orc woman’s eyes. There was a wisdom, a strength, and an integrity that he had rarely seen even in the eyes of his own soldiers.

 

 _This is crazy_ , he thought.

 

“I know him.” He finally said after thinking quickly. “He survived. His family moved out to a farm in what became Duskwood. He became a soldier for Stormwind. Got married. Had a daughter.” It wasn’t a lie, any of it.

 

Shaggara then turned her head again, apparently satisfied. “Good.” She remarked. “I am glad my people’s sacrifice was not for nothing. Thank you, Marshall. I will leave you alone now, as you desired.”

 

She then kept her word and moved aft to recline next to where the undead mage had seated himself.

 

McBride then was left to his own brooding thoughts, which became even more turbulent as he struggled with the revelation which the Orc had dropped on him.

 

 _If any of that is true…_ The implications threatened to upend everything he thought he knew about the green skinned warrior people. One thing however stood out so clearly to him that his own sense of honor and moral code could not ignore it. It was something he would have to reconcile and come to terms with.

 

 _I owe my life to an Orc_. _A McBride never leaves his debts unpaid. That’s what my father drilled into me. I owe my life to this Orc woman._

 

As Shaggara came to lay down next to Gereth, another of the humans stared at the undead mage from across the deck. It wasn’t the stare of loathing or disgust one might expect coming from a priest of the Holy Light, but it was more the stare of a man trying to place a face.

 

Gereth had noticed the man’s stare for some time, but did nothing about it. It was not uncommon for even those living of his own faction to stare at his people when they came within sight. One troll once asked him, as a matter of professional curiosity (the troll being a healer), how his body still ate, drank, slept and maintained all the semblances of life while being dead. He had no simple answers for him at the time, but it was a friendly and academic conversation. This “Brother Garen” person had the same look of professional curiosity about him.

 

Gereth decided it would be interesting to have that conversation again. Not wanting to disturb Shaggara who had just lain down next to him, he smiled at the human priest and waved him over.

 

To Gereth pleased surprise, the man got up and came over to sit near him.

 

“You seem interested in me, brother priest. May I inquire as to the nature of your interest?” Gereth asked in a pleasant manner.

 

“I hope I wasn’t being rude.” Garen replied somewhat embarrassed. “I’ve never encountered one of… your people before.”

 

“That’s quite alright. I’m accustomed to it.” Gereth replied. “Thank you for accepting my invitation. It’s been some time since I’ve spoken with a servant of the Light. I found my last conversation enlightening and stimulating.”

 

“Well, I hope not to disappoint you too much, but I was actually staring because the Lady Zelda had told me you were from Andorhal originally, and you reminded me of someone.” Garen replied humbly. “But as her face was living, and yours… well...” He trailed off.

 

“Is not?” Gereth finished for him.

 

“Yes.” Garen returned uncomfortably. “I wasn’t certain if there was any relation or not.”

 

_Relation?_

 

“Really?” Gereth asked.

 

“I had two siblings, an older brother in Stormwind many years ago who was a tailor by trade, and a sister. They were twins. He’s long since passed away, but you remind me terribly of him and of my older sister. She was in Andorhal when the Scourge unleashed their plague on Lordaeron.” Garen explained. “Being devoted to the religious life, I didn’t stay in contact with her as much as I should have. The last I had heard, many, many years ago she had gotten married. I don’t know if she ever had any children. It’s silly, I know…”

 

Gereth froze as the implications struck him. Then he said tentatively, “I don’t think it’s silly. I don’t think it’s silly at all. What was your sister’s name? Perhaps I might have known her… and what happened to her. Though you may not like the answer.”

 

“I reconciled myself to my sister’s fate years ago. I knew she had either died or become like you. I would have hoped however that if she had she would have at least sent me a letter to let me know. But then I heard from visitors to my abbey that most of the Forsaken themselves forsook their living relationships.”

 

“What was her name, Please?” Gereth asked again.

 

“Meredith.” Garen responded.

 

Gereth looked down at his gloved, corpse’s hands not sure as to how to respond. He knew the woman very, very well as well as what had happened to her. It was those very hands that had laid her to rest. A struggle began within him as he wrestled with his emotions.

 

“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” Garen asked. “I only wanted to find out if she had found peace in some way.”

 

Had she found peace? Gereth hoped she had too. The same way that he hoped his sister had found peace.

 

“Meredith was my mother.” Gereth finally responded, his voice more raspy than usual. His hands began to tremble. “I laid her to rest myself after the plague took her life. She didn’t wake up. Neither did my sister, Lucinda.”

 

Garen’s eyes went wide as he looked at the mage as though it were the first time seeing him, studying him in even greater detail.

 

“I’m… I’m sorry I have to tell you...” Gereth tried to continue.

 

The Garen took the mage’s dead, trembling hand in his own in a compassionate gesture and said, “Thank you. It means the world to me that she isn’t suffering. Thank you for telling me… Nephew.”

 

Gereth then raised his own eyes to meet the priest’s, and instead of revulsion or horror, he found only gratitude and compassion.

 

“You’re welcome.” Gereth replied sincerely, then adding, “Uncle.”

 

Garen then asked him, “Please, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would like to hear more about her, your sister, and yourself.”

 

Gereth’s own emotions began to overwhelm him, but he fought them back down and said honestly, “I… uh… It’s been such a long time since… Yes. I’d like that.”

 

And the two of them continued speaking as the zeppelin pressed on in its voyage deeper into the darkness. Soon, even the Blue Child and what star constellations that could be seen were swallowed by the blackening cloud cover.

 

Lightning flashed in the clouds above them. Great explosions and violently green arcs of electricity leaped from cloud to cloud. The air around the zeppelin became even more thick with a rancid stench of death. And then the shadows began to play across them.

 

Moving shadows.

 

A great unearthly roar screamed across the sky, forcing those sleeping members of the party awake and on their feet with weapons in hand before they had time to process why. An unnatural fear seeped into their minds and hearts. For those who had fought such creatures as produced this kind of fear, there was no question as to what kind of beast made that cry. A white hot jet of flame shot closely past the relatively slow moving dirigible removing all doubt from the minds of the few aboard who had not had the experience.

 

“DRAGON!!!” Shaggara cried out, her double axes in her hands as she turned three hundred and sixty degrees around her, scanning the open sky for the monster.

 

Oliver, who had taken shift after McBride kept a steady hand on the airship’s controls, having transformed himself into his larger worgen form which had better senses and keener hearing for navigating in the darkness. Zelda’s own latent combat instincts kicked in and her own senses were reaching out, a golden bow of pure light in her hands, arrow knocked. McBride stood with his sword and shield in his hands on the deck. The undead mage and holy priest stood side by side. One with hands raised in divine prayer, glowing with a golden light; the other had his gnarled staff extended in one gloved hand, and a runed wand in the other. All eyes were on the skies above and below.

 

“That’s not possible!” Link shouted without certainty, scanning the skies right along with her. “Nothing living can touch the ground in Northrend and we’re too far from Tirisfal Glades to the south!”

 

“I’ll be sure to tell it that, elf!” Shaggara retorted. “I’m sure it will see reason!”

 

Then the lightning flashed again. Link caught the glimpse of a long skeleton with bony wings spread out in flight of to the starboard and below them. With the next lightning flash another was spotted above them and to port.

 

“Really?!” Link asked in disbelief as he kept his eyes on the one to starboard. “There has to be more than one?!”

 

A jet of white hot fire flew vertically past the airship, singing the wooden vessel’s hull.

 

“Yes, Really!” Shaggara responded. “Welcome to our world, Hylian!”

 

As the lightning flashed, more skeletal forms were seen massing in the skies around the zeppelin.

 

“This new blight raises the dead! That’s what the Forsaken soldier told you, right?!” Gereth shouted at Link. “Dragonblight province is a home of dragons!”

 

“How many dead dragons can there be in Northrend?!” Link retorted.

 

Just then a great conflagration of lightning and fire burned across the sky lighting it up. Around the ship and in the distance could be seen clearly for a few brief seconds dragon corpses and skeletons of every size imaginable filling the sky. Hundreds perhaps. But there were too many for him to count.

 

“Any other questions, Hero?!” Shaggara taunted him.

 

Screeching roars blasted across the skies as the dragon flight circled the zeppelin. But as many of them as there were, they did not directly attack the airship. As the companions watched them, the undead dragons didn’t seem to notice that the craft was even in the air, or if they did, it did not concern them.

 

“They’re not attacking us!” McBride was the first to voice what could be seen. “I think we just ran into a huge flight of them!”

 

His own keen senses alert, Oliver then shouted out in his deep worgen’s voice, “There are so many, it may not matter!”

 

One of the dragon corpses flew past the airship and raked the wooden deck with its skeletal tale knocking the zeppeling off to the side, splintering wood as though to prove Oliver’s point. The members of the party were knocked off their feet and hit the deck, though through either divine providence or just sheer dumb luck none of them fell over the side, and the ship remained intact.

 

“So what do we do?! Do we attack them?!” Link asked.

 

“Not unless you want to whip them into a frenzy!” Oliver replied. “Don’t think like a warrior, Link! Undead or not they’re still creatures with instincts born from nature. Think like a Druid! What are they doing and why?!”

 

 _Think like a Druid?_ Link questioned. _With hundreds of dragons threatening us he wants me to get in touch with nature_ now _?_

 

Link went to the fore of the ship and used the purplish bright floodlights to see what the light could reveal about the dragons’ behavior. The surface of the sea below them was thick with dead and decaying fish. As he watched using the floodlights, several of the corpse dragons dove at the surface of the water and snatched up huge catches of fish with sharp fangs and powerful jaws. Others shot jets of fire at the floating corpses of much larges sea monsters before attacking them and ripping out huge chunks of decaying flesh.

 

 _They’re feeding._ Link realized as he understood now what the Master Druid did. _The smell of the dead fish is bringing them into a feeding frenzy. Dead or not, they’re acting on their most basic instinct, the need to feed. And we just stumbled right into them._

 

“They’re feeding!” Link pronounced, explaining what he had observed. “They’re going after food! The most powerful scent in the air is the dead fish below us! I doubt they can even smell us because of it!”

 

“So what do we do?!” McBride questioned. “Hope they don’t knock us out of the sky?!”

 

“Go higher! Away from the water and the fish!” Oliver called out as he pulled on a lever to adjust the zeppelin’s altitude.

 

The noise from the zeppelin’s engine became louder as it began to ascend towards the high clouds and away from the monstrous feeding frenzy. As the party watched, the dragons soon fell away from them and paid no attention to the noisy thing which shared the sky with them.

 

As they cleared the dragonflight, and the screeching roars and jets of flame were safely below them, Brother Garen observed, “I had always be told dragons were an intelligent race, but these were acting like mere animals.”

 

Shaggara’s hand touched the armor on her chest, remembering the dragon who gave it to her. “Yes, they are intelligent.” She agreed. “It doesn’t make sense.”

 

Gereth then had an answer for them, “I’ve seen it many times in the Deathknell graveyard. Some undead, like myself, retain their sense of self and their memories, but many do not and are mindless and act like animals when they awaken. They attack everyone, even us. Everything your people think about ours is true of them.”

 

“What happens to them?” Garen asked, horrified.

 

“It pains us, but we have to destroy them, brothers to us though they may be.” Gereth told him. “It is the kindest thing we can do, and the safest for everyone’s sake.”

 

A jet of fire shot past the airship from behind drawing everyone’s attention as a great screeching roar drew closer.

 

Link ran to the aft of the zeppelin. In between the flashes of lightning he saw huge fangs in a half exposed horned reptilian skull at least as large as he was, rotting armored blue scales, and torn flesh closing in on them.

 

 _Just one, and it’s away from its flight_. Link then made a decision to act.

 

As Zelda turned just in time to see him, her heart nearly stopped as, without warning, Link jumped off the aft of the airship towards the pursuing corpse dragon. In seconds a crimson raptor had taken his place as it hurtled towards the oncoming creature, talons extended for the kill.

 

Link fell through the air at high speed until he felt his talons hit the backbone of the animal. The claws dug in and hooked around exposed vertebrate as he transformed again into his elven shape, both hands holding on to dragon bone and sinew as the wind rushed fast around him.

 

The dragon twisted it’s long neck and body in the air as it tried to divest itself of the added nuisance. It screeched a deafening roar and another jet of fire shot from in between its jaws off and into the clouds.

 

Link felt his whole body fly off the dragon as he held on tight to the animal’s neck. His muscle memory informed his hands and arms that he had done this before at some time, though his mind was blank for the moment as to when. The muscles in his arms and hands seemed to be doing the thinking for him as they found better purchase to ride out the dragon’s thrashing. But there was no way for him to reach the Master Sword yet to end the beast, not without losing his hold on it.

 

The dragon’s rotting blue wings beat the air furiously as it tried to stay aloft with the extra weight. It was furious that the stinging thing on its neck was making it lose its prey. It began to thrash more, pitch and dive trying to lose the thing, but it persisted to annoy it.

 

Then something else sharp and painful struck it hard in the back between its wings and it screamed in flame and fire. The dragon became enraged.

 

Shaggara had dug her axes deep into the dragon’s back trying to use them like one might use an axe to climb rock. Rotting scales split and held the dual axes fast, giving her a firm, sure purchase that she then secured to her belt with the sheath straps which then freed her hands as the dragon did a dance of pain in the air.

 

With her left hand she drew the Sword of Mastery from her back, directed the point downwards between the wings and thrust it hard. Much to her surprise, the Sword cut through the dragon’s scales like soft butter or cheese, severing it’s backbone.

 

The dragon’s tail and hind legs suddenly went limp and it began to panic in the air. It pulled itself upright and hovered in the air in pain.

 

Link then seized on the quick opportunity to draw the Master Sword from its own scabbard. With a quick energetic motion that wouldn’t have been possible just seconds ago, he leaped upwards from the back of the neck, and brought the sword down in a sweeping arc which blazed with a bluish white energy. The Master Sword cut through the neck of the beast, severing it from the rest of its body.

 

And then both began to drop out of the sky.

 

Thinking quickly, Link shifted to his flight form and leaped from the falling head and neck. Coming around, he saw the greenish brown skinned orc warrior held fast to the dead and dropping body. Then, with little forethought, he dove towards her, talons out.

 

Shaggara having caught a glimpse of the incoming raptor, tried to free her trusted axes but they wouldn’t budge. Having no time to fight with them she resigned herself to their loss, used her sword to cut the straps, and then fell away from the monster’s body, sword in hand.

 

The sensation of weightlessness overtook her as she fell through the air. For whatever reason, she had the wherewithal to resheath her sword so as not to lose it as well as she fell. Then suddenly she felt rough pressure around her muscled arms and her weightless fall was arrested hard and she was being pulled upwards.

 

The next thing she knew was both of her arms being caught and held fast by a giant crimson bird of prey and she was rising higher and higher into the sky back towards the slowly receding Goblin made Zeppelin.

 

The crimson raptor flew hard and fast into the space between the balloon and the deck and dropped his passenger before changing form and landing with both feet on the wooden deck himself, the momentum of his travel carrying him forward still so he fell and instinctively went into a tumble to keep himself from injury.

 

When he had stopped himself he was sitting on the wooden deck facing Shaggara who was herself trying to process everything that had just occurred. As he looked to his other companions, he found them staring hard with wide, unbelieving eyes at the both of them.

 

The only one whose eyes were not filled with total disbelief was Zelda as she stared hard at Link. Her eyes were filled with angry concern and resignation as if to say, “I know this is what you have to do, but how dare you do that to me?”

 

When Link’s eyes met Shaggara’s, they were gazing at his own as if looking for answers as to what had just happened to her. He understood that feeling all too well. He nodded slowly at her in silent understanding of everything she was feeling at the moment as if to say, “Yes. This is what we do.”

 

Shaggara returned the nod, though her eyes said that their continued conversation was just beginning.

 

Then Oliver’s voice rang out, “Land! I see Land ahead of us. We’ve reached Northrend!”

 

In the distance to the east, there was a lightening of the sky as dawn began its attempt to break through the unholy cloudcover, but did not fully succeed.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

 

The mood aboard the zeppelin fell as the Goblin made airship continued its flight over the blighted landscape of Northrend. Those aboard who had seen it in days gone by, when the woods and forests of the Howling Fjord and the Grizzly Hills had been green and teeming with wild life were made almost sick by the blackened and barren landscape they could see under the floodlights from the air.

 

Whole villages lay dark. A great fortress of tan and brown stone which they passed near, standing like a spire overlooking the Fjord was silent and appeared lifeless. The only movement they saw from the deck of the airship was that of corpses and skeletal beings wandering aimlessly across the landscape.

 

McBride was standing near the starboard edge of the deck, watching the landscape pass by. His own face held expressions of sadness and disgust at what he saw.

 

“I used to fish from that river with my platoon mates during the campaign against the Lich King.” McBride said out loud, gesturing to a sickly green flow of liquid set against a dark and dying earth as they passed over the landscape. “There used to be so many you could just reach out and grab them with your hands.”

 

Link looked towards the area McBride pointed out. As he did, he imagined the Zora River in Hyrule being hit with the Blight that had ravaged this continent. He shuddered involuntarily.

 

“We fought to free this land from the grip of a scourge like this, and now in a matter of weeks...” The Marshall trailed off, his voice tinged with emotion. “How many of my friends gave their live here for nothing?”

 

“We can set it right.” Link told him, though his voice wavered a little.

 

They had been able rebuild Hyrule time and again regardless of the damage inflicted on it by the Demon King, but it was never the same. Temples and great works of architecture were often destroyed. Whole towns were abandoned and relocated. Great libraries of knowledge were lost to the ravages of Demise’s wrath. Link’s own world suffered under the strain of the never ending fight to keep Demise imprisoned. How could he honestly tell the soldier it would be all right? He supposed, in that moment, that Hyrule and Azeroth were not that dissimilar.

 

McBride looked at Link with some surprise before looking back towards the ground. “I hope so, Link. It would be a damn shame if it stayed like this; like Lordaeron did. Most of that continent is still plaguelands now decades later. The elven homelands were almost totally destroyed except for one small pocket in the far north.” He then said sadly, “Our world gets taken from us little by little until there’s nothing good left in it. What will be left for my daughter or her children if she ever has any?”

 

Seated with crossed legs nearby, Gereth listened to the conversation, but said nothing. He doubted the Alliance Marshall would care about his feelings on the matter, regardless if they were very much the same or not. Instead, he focused on the spell of conjuring he was attempting. It was one he rarely had the need for, and it was really best performed by someone who knew more about the art it attempted to replicate than he did.

 

As he passed his hands over the spot on the deck where he wanted the items to appear, he carefully tuned the use and direction of the mana flows. There were seven of them, including himself, who would need to eat. Hopefully it turned out well, though there were times his inability as undead to taste food well worked to his advantage.

 

Seven steaming bowls of an apple strudel on a serving tray appeared in front of him. The silver handle of a spoon projected from each of them. They were accompanied by a large flask of a strong, piping hot jasmine tea he had sampled while staying in a Pandaran village in the Valley of the Four Winds. The Pandarans mixed it with a fruit juice and sugar, and he had attempted to replicate it for his companions. Seven mugs appeared next to the flask.

 

He chose the strudel because it had been a favorite of his as a child long ago in Andorhal. It smelled reasonably apple and cinnamon-ish, and the tea was likewise fragrant. He hoped that meant it was just right and not too strong, his own nose not being what it had been when he was a living man.

 

Satisfied with his results, he announced in his raspy voice, “Breakfast is ready if anyone is hungry!”

 

Six other pairs of eyes turned towards where the mage had seated himself on the deck. He himself took a mug and filled it from the flask. Then, taking the mug and a bowl of strudel he seated himself a little distance away from the food so as to make room for the others.

 

Gereth couldn’t rightfully say that his stomach _growled_ , but somehow he still felt the urge to eat just after dawn and at different times throughout the day. What food he could ingest seemed to give him more energy for the rest of the day, though not being any kind of an expert on physiology, he still had little idea how his corpse’s body could even process food or why it needed to. It was one of the mysteries of his continued undeath that would remain an enigma to him.

 

Soon, Shaggara sat down next to him with a bowl and mug as well and began to eat.

 

“I know human pastries and sweets aren’t much to your liking, but I thought...” Gereth began to explain.

 

“It is good, Gereth.” She said after several bites With humans accompanying us, there is no need to explain. It is doubtful they would have been able to stomach an Orc breakfast well.” Shaggara replied.

 

“True.” Gereth agreed.

 

“You did well with the tea. It is almost like Guozhi’s was.” She then told him.

 

“Excellent. I always did like the way he blended it.” Gereth said.

 

As they were talking, a man in white robes with gold trim came to stand next to Gereth. A bowl of strudel and a mug of tea were in his hands.

 

“May I sit with you?” Garen asked.

 

Shaggara looked up at him with surprise and was about to say something, when Gereth responded, “Of course, please. You’re always welcome.”

 

“Thank you.” He replied as he carefully sat down, arranging his robes with his knees and feet so that he didn’t trip. “Apple and Cinnamon strudel, it’s been a long time. My mother used to make it when I was a boy.”

 

“As did mine.” Gereth replied.

 

Garen smiled. “I wondered as much. Meredith spent a great deal of time in the kitchen with our mother.”

 

Shaggara looked back and forth between the two in a kind of confusion, not understanding where this new friendliness had come from between the holy priest and the undead mage. Their conversation turned to the Pandaran brewmaster who had first introduced the Forsaken mage to the spiritual art of tea brewing. Shaggara was able to add her own memories of the man and his village, and soon they were both regaling Brother Garen with stories of exotic lands he had never had the opportunity to visit.

 

McBride came over to the setting of food in the middle of the zeppelin’s deck and crouched down. He took a bowl and held it to his nose, inspecting it. His mouth began to water, and noises came from his stomach. Deciding his body was going to win out over his apprehension of the food’s source, he took the bowl as well as a mug of the tea and went to the aft of the airship.

 

He then set down the bowl and mug, and reached for the satchel he had carried aboard with them. Opening it up, he pulled out a package which had been wrapped in netherweave cloth and tied off. Unwrapping it, he exposed a large mass of dried meat which had been cut into strips. He then came and offered it to the rest of the companions, starting with Gereth.

 

“It’s jerked Talbuk meat from Nagrand. I picked it up from a vendor in Shattrath” McBride said, and then began to add awkwardly as he looked at the partially decomposed face of the mage. “I don’t know if.. uh...” He wasn’t sure what else to say.

 

Gereth smiled and reached up with a gloved hand. He took two strips saying, “Thank you, Marshall. I’m sure it will go well.”

 

Shaggara and Garen likewise took some. Soon, everyone on board was eating with the exception of Oliver, who chose to wait until someone else was finished so they could take the controls of the airship for him. For that little time at least, the mood aboard the zeppelin lightened as they all ate together.

 

Link and Zelda sat together in the fore of the ship near where Oliver had been keeping a steady hand. McBride came over, and after offering them some of the jerked meat as well, he asked “Do you mind if I join you?”

 

Zelda stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but Link noticed.

 

“Please.” Link told him.

 

“My thanks.” McBride responded, and then he sat down next to the Hylian warrior druid.

 

They ate in silence for several minutes until McBride said, “I have to admit, the corpse can make a mean bowl of apple strudel.”

 

“His name is Gereth.” Zelda replied.

 

“Gereth, yes. It is.” McBride corrected himself. “Forgive me.”

 

Zelda didn’t reply to that, but sipped her tea.

 

“I spent a lot of time up here in Northrend.” McBride then started speaking. “The war against Arthas’s Scourge took many years. I lost a lot of comrades up here. Good friends. I expect that a lot of them were raised by this new Blight, those whose corpses we couldn’t burn back then, that is.”

 

“Why would you need to burn them?” Zelda asked.

 

“The Scourge would take the bodies of the dead off the battlefield and turn them into more undead for us to fight. We burned the bodies to leave them no raw material to use against us.” McBride told her matter-of-factly in between bites.

 

“That’s horrible.” Zelda replied, her voice tinged with shock.

 

“I saw more than one face I had considered a friend fall in battle only to meet it again days later as it tried to kill me.” The Marshall told her.

 

She was silent for a time before she said, “You must really hate Gereth, then.”

 

McBride looked at her, and then looked over at the undead mage and Shaggara who were still having a lively discussion with Brother Garen. He then looked back to Zelda.

 

“He seems decent enough, for a corpse; the Orc woman too. I have a great respect for what she did back there, helping Link with the dragon, and I am in her debt for that, among other things.” McBride responded, though did not elaborate on the last comment. “But I can’t say I’m comfortable around him, or her. I know they’re your friends, my Lady, and I respect that. I know how much you mean to Link. That’s a good enough vouch for me. I owe your man my life twice over now. But I can’t say I don’t look in their faces and see the monsters who killed my friends and tried to kill me. I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s ever going to change, no matter how virtuous they both may be.”

 

Zelda nodded in understanding. “I once thought the same of the Gerudos.” She left off, hoping to continue the conversation.

 

But McBride didn’t respond. Instead, he took a bite of his own Talbuk meat. “The spices on this are a little strong.” He said. “There’s a vendor in Stormwind who can take a good piece of venison and turn it into something that will make your mouth water for days.”

 

 _A topic for another day then_. Zelda thought to herself.

 

The morning continued to wear on as they continued their flight over snow and ice covered land. They had left what had been the more temperate climate behind and were now over areas that looked relatively untouched in comparison. The floodlights however, told a different story as large numbers of creatures were moving about on the ground.

 

“Looks like we’re over Dragonblight now.” McBride said as he stood watching the land pass under the lights.

 

Shaggara came to stand near him, watching the land as well. “We should keep a lookout for more dragons.” She said. “Especially here.”

 

“Why here?” Link asked as he stood next to the Marshall.

 

“Because this is where the dragons of Azeroth come to die.” Shaggara replied.

 

In the dim light of the morning, a pyramidal shape began to take shape in the path of the zeppelin. The closer they came, the more it looked as though someone had ripped the grotesque tomb of an unholy king from its foundations and hung it in the air. It was made of gray stone with obelisks at the four corners. A single dark obelisk crowned its peak.

 

“What is that?” Link asked.

 

“An empty monument to a fallen enemy.” Gereth said as he came to stand next to Shaggara. “Naxxramas.”

 

Then, from in front of them, a screech familiar to McBride and Link was heard, though there was something off about it.

 

“Perhaps not so empty, then.” McBride said as his eyes began to search the skies around the approaching ziggurat. “That sounded like a gryphon.”

 

Out from behind the pyramid, a winged skeletal shape emerged. Bits of decayed fur and hide still clung to the frame, and dark, rotted feathers could be seen on the decrepit wingspan of the once noble beast. On its back, a warrior encased in black armor rode steadily and with purpose. A great ebony sword hung at his back.

 

“Death Knight of the Ebon Blade.” Shaggara pronounced. “He looks to be on patrol.”

 

“Yes, but is he friend or foe?” Gereth asked. “Sargeras was trying to seduce those of my people who remained in Northrend under the Blight. While I don’t believe most of them would succumb, there are some who would not resist the temptation to power.”

 

“Why wouldn’t they?” McBride asked, genuinely curious about his reasoning.

 

“Because, Marshall, we began our undeath as slaves. Our own free will was not just given to us. We had to fight and destroy others of our kind for it. I know my own people. With what it cost us, few of us would give up our freedom so easily again. We would burn first.” Gereth replied.

 

The Death Knight circled the ziggurat’s peak and then headed straight for the zeppelin. The gryphon flew closer and closer until the warrior on its back could be clearly seen by those aboard the airship. In the dim light, the pale ghostly blue light of his eyes could be seen clearly as he flew past the airship and observed it but made no aggressive moves.

 

Those aboard kept their eyes on him as the death knight circled the airship twice, each time observing it closely. After the second pass, he came around again and gestured with his hand to the companions that he intended to come aboard.

 

McBride recognizing the hand signal from his own combat flight training, told the others, “He wants to come aboard.”

 

“We should let him. He may have good information for us.” Gereth replied.

 

“Agreed.” McBride said to Gereth’s surprise.

 

McBride returned the gesture for permission, and the gryphon circled around to the starboard of the vessel where the rider expertly guided the dead animal in to a smooth landing on the deck, though he did not dismount.

 

“Turn this ship around, or you will all die.” The Death Knight pronounced is a wheezing voice from under his armored black helmet, his face completely hidden. “It isn’t safe for the living in Northrend now. It isn’t safe for anyone.”

 

“We know, brother.” Gereth said as he approached the gryphon. “We have ways of protecting my living friends here.”

 

The Death Knight observed the others wearing warm flesh and blood. “There were many powerful mages in Dalaran. None of that mattered. Even several of our own Knights of the Ebon Blade fell to this new scourge. Now mindless zombies and rotting beasts roam the land attacking anything and everything with no focus. This is no place for living adventurers wanting to make a name for themselves. Sargeras calls out to our brothers and sisters from a new Demon King in Dalaran. It is not safe for even you, brother mage. Turn back.” He warned again.

 

“We have relics that can stop this. Dalaran is our goal.” Gereth told him. “Who is your Commander now?” He then asked.

 

“Lord Commander Arete has rallied us against this new threat.” The Knight responded. “He has set up his forward command in Zaxxramas. The Blight does not seem to reach there, and so our own living Knights are safe as long as they are in the air.” The Knight then asked, “What relics could possibly have any power against a demonic Titan?”

 

“Lead us to Lord Commander Arete, brother. It will not be easy, but with your order’s help, it will be possible.” Gereth responded as a plan began to take shape in his mind.

 

“What are you talking about, mage?” McBride asked, hearing what was being said.

 

“Sargeras and his host have badly miscalculated this time.” Gereth replied. “They thought to use my people as an army to destroy Azeroth and so the Blight spared us. They are about to see the true resolve of the undead.” He said looking the Death Knight in the eyes.

 

The Death Knight nodded approvingly. “I will take you to Arete. Sargeras will know our people better after this day, and then he will know nothing at all.”

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

 

Bernald sat staring at the window to his apartments, even though the heavy curtains were drawn. His conjured breakfast of cold porridge lay uneaten on the wooden table he had seated himself at. The mental assaults of seduction had grown more insistent by the day. They were so distracting, and so draining of his mental efforts to block and stave off that all he could conjure for his meal was the pasty grain mash in front of him, and he couldn’t even spare the mental effort it took to eat it.

 

But he would be damned before he willingly served the Demon Lord.

 

It had been several days since Bernald had seen the fool mage whom he had found wandering the streets of the mage’s city. He had warned him to not go to the tower that was the source of the trouble, but the idiot hadn’t listened. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Blast it! I can’t even eat!” He shouted. “Shut up! Get out of my mind!” Bernald yelled into the foul air around him. “Rot in the Twisting Nether for all I care you damned demon!”

 

He forced himself to stand up and clear his mind, but the onslaught was relentless as the seductive promises of power filled his thoughts. He grasped the sides of his head and forced himself to think of something else, anything else, even his own childhood in Stratholme. Involuntarily, he found himself almost running for the door to his rooms. The next thing his mind could tell him was that he was out in the empty streets of the city.

 

Piles of useless bones lay in heaps at random along the walkways and the cobblestones. He began walking towards the aerial platform known as Krasus’s Landing.

 

 _I have to get out of here_. It was the one thought, the one desire that was strong enough to break through the maddeningly devilish voice. _I don’t care anymore if I have to jump to do it. I might still be able to use a featherfall spell. Yes, that’s it. I’ll jump and glide down to the surface._

 

He felt almost euphoric at the simplicity and daring of his new plan. He would save himself and be rid of the voice once and for all whether his undead body survived the fall or not. It was brilliant.

 

He entered the golden domed building and almost ran up the half spiral staircase that led to the landing platform and his freedom. Spots on the stairs were covered in organic residue and bones, and his frostweave slippers slipped several times, tripping him in his eagerness as he caught himself on the railing. The exposed bones of his bare hands clicked and clacked as he gripped the metal for stability.

 

At the top of the stairs he found himself rushing out onto the ornately decorated platform covered in slime and leftover debris from the living beings that once stood there. The elvish aesthetic to the city had always nauseated him, and he found that the bones actually added something homey to the platform.

 

As he came to the center of the platform, he chanced to look out towards the southeastern sky. Dark billowing clouds shot greenish lightning across them, and foul purplish green mists rose from the surface, not that this mattered to his plans in the slightest.

 

But then something else in the sky caught the attention of his dead, milky white eyes. Several dark specks appeared from behind the mists and grew larger. As he watched, they multiplied. Ten, no twenty… No, still more came until he could no longer count them, and they were no longer just specks.

 

They each had wide wingspans like giant birds, and black specks on their backs. Soon, the southeastern sky was filled with them like an immense gray and black cloud heading straight for Dalaran. Then behind them a purplish blob emerged from the mists and grew bigger as it grew closer.

 

Bernald was transfixed as he watched the scene unfold. His former plans forgotten, and the voice in his head ignored for the moment. It was the most new thing he had seen in more than a week as he tried to understand what he was seeing.

 

As the approaching cloud of flying things became closer, more details emerged to his eyes, and then he felt stunned. It was the last thing he had expected to happen.

 

They were skeletal gryphons. Hundreds of gryphons, each carrying a black armored rider wearing the tabards and livery of the Knights of the Ebon Blade. And behind them, seeming strangely out of place, was a Goblin made zeppelin which itself looked eerily similar to the one which ran the regular route between Vengeance Landing and the Undercity.

 

And the only thought that could go through his mind at the strangely fantastic sight was, _the fools, they’re launching an assault on Dalaran._ And then the realization dawned on him, _they’re coming to save us._

 

A yell went up that he couldn’t hear just yet, but then the cry was taken up by the next man, and then the next man until the battle cry of the unholy warriors shook both the darkened skies and the befouled land beneath, and Bernald himself trembled at it.

 

“FOR THE EBON BLADE! FOR OUR FALLEN COMRADES!! DEATH TO THE SCOURGE!!!”

 

The Death Knights had begun their attack.

 

* * *

 

From the tower which had been his vantage point, Ganondorf watched the encroaching army of Death Knights with dispassion, and a grimace of distaste on his lips.

 

 _What do they think they’re doing?_ He wondered. _Do they seriously think they can challenge me? After everything I’ve offered them, this is how they repay me?_

 

He realized only then that he had badly misunderstood the undead race this world referred to as the Forsaken.

 

“Bah! I don’t need them. I have my own servants.” He exclaimed in disgust.

 

He walked out onto the balcony of the tower and thrust out his right hand, calling on the nearly limitless divine energies of the Triforce he carried, and shouted a word of power, “ _Nekranastaste!!_ ” _Rise corpses!_

 

A wave of dark magic power rushed over the floating city of Dalaran. As it did, skeletons began to reassemble themselves, the bones held together with tendons and sinews of shadow and demonic energies. Breastplates and helmets flew to cover exposed skulls and ribcages. Sharp swords and heavy shields which had lain useless near the piles of human remains flew up and into skeletal hands. Mage’s robes and staves suddenly adorned the skeletal remains of their previous owners. Blunderbusses, rifles, and crossbows all found their way into the boney hands of their previous owners. All around the city, the population seemed to wake up and reassemble itself as an unholy army built from demonic powers.

 

 _Fools. Let them use their death magic on the dead._ Ganondorf thought to himself. _Then they will understand who their true master is._

 

* * *

 

Lord Commander Arete led his knights forward in their charge, his wide, wicked looking Ebon Blade held high for all to see, the runes which lined its blade glowing with power. Plate armor black as midnight and decorated with the sigils of the Ebon Blade and of death covered his decomposing, though still well muscled frame. His square, deathly gray jaw and milky white eyes were fixed like hardened saronite on the city. His black hair blew freely, heroically in the wind of his skeletal gryphon’s passing. He wore no helmet like the rest of his knights did. He wanted whatever demonic power that lay behind all this to be able to see its own demise in his eyes which glowed with the unholy pale blue energies of death itself.

 

He knew before his gryphon had ever leaped from the hold in Zaxxramas that he wouldn’t survive this assault. All of his loyal men did. They were certain Sargeras would see to it.

 

But their survival wasn’t part of the plan, and they had all agreed to it. He hadn’t needed to cajole or threaten any of his knights into the harebrained scheme. If there was any chance for vengeance against the demon that took their brothers and living comrades, they would take it and let the afterlife accept them or reject them as it saw fit. For many of them, including himself, it was a fair exchange.

 

He had been cheated of Death’s sweet embrace. Perhaps soon, that heinous wrong against him would be righted, and perhaps his sacrifice would be looked upon kindly by whatever deities judged men there.

 

With his own gryphon in front, the first wave of gryphon riding knights flooded the city and immediately began targeting the skeletal forces they found there. Arete’s own sword flew from its scabbard and into the welcome lover’s embrace of his black armored hands. Immediately those hands used it to smash through skeletal warriors wearing the livery of Stormwind.

 

At first he had been concerned about striking down his own Forsaken people. There were few enough of them as it was, and being what they were, they could not procreate in the natural fashion. But as he saw the empty eye sockets filled with shadowy energies, he knew these were foul abominations of magic. Whatever remained of the original being had long since departed.

 

His concern was quickly replaced with relish at destroying this new evil.

 

Around him, his men quickly dismounted, some leaping, from their gryphons and entered the fight and soon Dalaran was filled with the noise of swords clanging against shields, and the air was filled with ionization from great spells of power being used against them.

 

The Demon was spending all of his energies focusing on them.

 

 _So much the better._ Arete thought as his sword swung hard, shattering bone and metal. _But they had better hurry. We won’t hold out forever. There aren’t enough of us to fight the population of the entire city._

 

* * *

 

Quietly, and unnoticed, the zeppelin came to rest up against the walled northeastern edge of the city.

It was then that the eyes of most of its passengers turned to Brother Garen and Zelda. They had gone over the divine spells for protecting the living human members of the party several times together over the last leg of the journey from Zaxxramas and now it was time to turn theory into practice.

 

“It’s a simple, almost basic kind of divine magic.” Garen had explained to her. “It’s called a shield prayer. It would normally only protect a priest or another he intercedes on behalf of for a few minutes at most depending on his faith and discipline, but during those few minutes, nothing would be able to touch him, and certainly nothing unholy. My thought was if you cast it on us, my Lady...”

 

“Me? But I’m not one of your priests.” Zelda protested in confusion.

 

“No, my Lady, you are not one of us.” Garen agreed, trying to put what his faith had insisted on into words. “But unless I am much mistaken, you are one to whom our prayers have been directed all along. And you are aided by the divine power of holy wisdom which has chosen you. My faith compels me to make this prayer to you, my Lady, and cast the holy protection of your Light over all of us.”

 

“I am no goddess to be prayed to, Brother Garen.” Zelda protested again.

 

“Perhaps not, but you are the closest to one we have on our side at the moment.” Garen replied. “Please, Lady Hylia. Be our guiding Holy Light.”

 

Zelda struggled within herself. _How can I do this? How can I do this and return home to face the Others?_ She then looked again into Garen’s eyes which were full of faith. _But then how can I not try and let these good men die?_

 

“Come.” She said to him, and then motioned to Oliver and McBride as well, “Come, take my hands.” To Gereth she said, “Stay back, my friend.”

 

Gereth backed away to the far side of the airship.

 

“Brother Garen, help me.” She told him. “Start your prayer.”

 

Brother Garen began his words of power with a supplication. The prayer which was usually used was a simple word, an ancient one which meant “shield”. But his faith compelled him to truly pray this time. “Gracious and Merciful Lady, Oh Holy Light which brings life and love and grace to all of us, shine on us today with your compassion and mercy. Surround us with the shield of your faith to protect us from the darkness, guide us through your love into all truth...”

 

As the words began to flow in sincerity from his mouth, the mark on Zelda’s hand began to glow with its golden white energies. That light spread to the rest of her hand and up through her entire being brighter and brighter. And then Zelda herself began to pray. It was something she never did when she remembered who she was, and yet… and yet here it felt right as she called upon her mother’s name one more time, “Nayru, mother, goddess of the Holy Wisdom, I ask you to surround us with your love and protection as we enter into this battle to protect and deliver this world. I don’t know if you can hear me, or even if you approve of this, but if you would, please, come to our aid now.”

 

A glowing triangle of light formed above the four who stood in the circle of prayer, its tendrils of golden power flowed into the three men wrapping them in its protective energies. A protective sheath of blue energy then flowed over the men and the golden mark of three empty triangles appeared across the center of their foreheads briefly before it faded again.

 

McBride had never been a truly religious man himself, though he respected and honored the priesthood and the Holy Light which they preached. His heart had seen too much evil and violence in the world though to accept that there could be any divine beings that cared one whit about him or his.

 

In that moment however he felt a peace and security that he had always, desperately at times wanted, but had eluded him. His heart was full and his mind became clear, and his soul… Yes, he did have a soul! His soul felt the presence, the loving protective presence of another wrapping herself around him like a mother her beloved child. The peace which comes from knowing nothing could hurt him as long as she held him was his.

 

It was then he realized that he had closed his eyes when they had been praying. He opened them to find Brother Garen and the Master Druid Oliver with expressions of peace and determination like he had never seen before. And then he looked at the young elf woman, Zelda.

 

Her light, fashionable windwool clothing had disappeared and been replaced with radiant golden plate armor which conformed to her feminine shape. It encased her body from the neck down. A winged triforce symbol blazed in golden light on the breastplate. At her back hung a curved triangular, golden shield bearing the crest of the Hylian royal family. At her right side in a long thin golden scabbard hung a sword with a golden crossbar and pommel, and a violet wrapped hilt. In her hands was the golden bow with which she had mistakenly shot her beloved. At her left side hung a quiver loaded with shining arrows of pure energy. Her own eyes were still closed, but the expression of uncertainty and unease had been replaced with something else entirely. Something maternal, protective, and fierce. And then she opened her eyes.

 

They blazed with white, radiant Holy Light.

 

“My Lady?” McBride asked, tentatively. “Are you…?”

 

“I am... Zelda.” She replied, her voice somewhat distant and otherworldly. The light faded slowly from her eyes, but the warrior’s look did not. “Let’s end this.”

 

“By your leave, my Lady.” McBride responded with respect.

 

Standing nearby, worry and concern filled Link’s eyes as he watched her.

 

“Zelda?” He asked.

 

“I’m me, Link. I always have been.” She told him as she drew near and caressed his face lovingly with her armored, gauntleted hand.

 

Link nodded in understanding. “Then let’s go.” He said.

 

Gereth returned from the opposite end of the Airship to rejoin them, though he noticeably kept his distance from Zelda. Shaggara taking her place next to him, drew the Sword of Mastery from her back.

 

“For the fallen.” She said.

 

Next to McBride, a savage, animalistic snarl gave way to a howl which sounded fittingly like a war cry as the human form of Oliver was replaced with fur, fangs, and claws. In a deep, throaty low voice he said to them all, a committed look in his lupine eyes, “For Azeroth.”

 

“For Azeroth.” They all repeated solemnly.

 

* * *

 

In the distance, to the northeast of his position, Arete saw a brief flash of light that somehow he knew was divine in origin. It lasted for less than a second, but he knew what it meant. Now their efforts would truly need to count, suicide run or not.

 

“May whatever gods that have not forsaken us protect you.” He said in spite of himself. “For Azeroth.”

 

And then much louder so that every Death Knight, fiend and skeletal warrior in the city could hear him, he cried out, “FOR AZEROTH!!! FIGHT FOR OUR WORLD MEN!!! FIGHT FOR AZEROTH!!!”

 

Ten skeletal abominations around him then turned their attacks to him. _Good_. He thought as he increased the ferocity of his own attacks. _That’s it. Pay attention to me you nether born demons. Ignore the light_.

 

* * *

 

“Arete is occupying their attention, we must move.” Gereth said after hearing the Lord Commander’s shout in the distance, gesturing to the rest of them.

 

“They can’t hope to survive this. The numbers are against them.” McBride exclaimed in a concerned voice.

 

“They know that. They’re doing their part so we can do ours.” Gereth said respectfully, not so much out of respect for McBride as for his doomed Forsaken brothers.

 

McBride was about to reply, but then closed his mouth and nodded. His expression adopted the hardness of knowing he was going to lose good men in order to achieve victory. A rage began to build within him at the thought. He captured it and bent it to his will, allowing it to give him clarity and focus.

 

The seven then slipped over the port railing of the airship and over the enchanted stone walls which encircled the city, dropping into what had once been lush, well manicured lawn behind a group of elegant, elvish like buildings.

 

Immediately, the living members of the party began to feel nauseous once their feet touched the ground. The foul air felt as though it might choke them to death. But after a few minutes, nothing more than this happened, and soon they were able to become somewhat accustomed to it.

 

“Duazhen’s tower lay just over there.” Gereth told the rest of them quietly, so as not to attract attention. “But we need to know how many of Sargeras’ monstrosities are between us and it.”

 

“Leave that to me.” Oliver growled, and then his upright lupine form changed yet again, and in its place was a sleek, muscular, black jungle cat with vicious looking fangs and claws. The cat looked back towards the companions and then without warning disappeared, blending into its surroundings.

 

“How?” Zelda whispered in surprise.

 

“Oliver explained it to me when he was teaching me.” Link whispered back. The Shadow Panthers of Stranglethorn Vale have a special kind of fur that can change the way it reflects light, adapting to the appearance of their surroundings. It makes them a very efficient predator in the jungle environment. The cat form that the Druid channels draws from their natural life energies.”

 

“Oh.” Was Zelda’s reply.

 

The next thing they heard was the growl of a large cat and the shattering of something that sounded like a pot or piece of ceramic, followed by two more. Then, after a few minutes, the cat like form of Oliver reappeared and resumed his Worgen features.

 

“We’re in the clear now.” He said.

 

As the group came out from behind the building, they saw the shattered remains of what might have been bone and shredded cloth lying across the cobblestones of the street. No one paid it any mind as Gereth led them up to the steps of his old master’s tower.

 

While the others watched, he checked the door for traps, but found it not only unarmed, but also unlocked. Wary, he pushed the door open and the seven companions rushed into the entry way to his former master’s spire. Once everyone was in, the ornate wooden door closed behind them.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 

The entryway to the stairs of the tower was dark except for the dim greenish glow of the globes still set into the wall. They seemed to try desperately, futilely to defeat a darkness against which they were ill equipped to shine against. Everything was as Gereth had last seen it during his trial. There was no trace of his old master’s remains, nor did he expect to find any. He had seen the undead elf mage completely dissolved through the energies of an exorcism spell powered by his wand.

 

The rest of the companions were visibly wary of the comparative silence of the entry hall to the spire. They had been expecting more resistance.

 

“There will be no abominations in here. Maester Duazhen had no living apprentices or servants in his tower. There will be no raw material for the Demon Lord to raise against us. He trusted nothing but the magic.” Gereth told the rest of them.

 

“And you?” Brother Garen asked.

 

“I am not living.” Gereth replied. “And he did not truly trust me either.”

 

Garen didn’t respond as the party allowed their eyes to adjust to the subdued lighting. The rose colored marble staircase to the tower ran high upwards in a spiraling circle, a gold colored railing followed its edge. Doorways off the main entry hall led to different chambers around the base. Another small landing could be seen not far up the stairs and the outline of a doorway gave the promise of another chamber.

 

Link stared up at the twisting stairwell as it disappeared high up into the tower. A determined resignation appeared on his face at the sight.

 

“The Demon Lord will be at the top of the tower.” Gereth told them. “That is where my old master’s laboratory was.” He then mounted the steps and said, “Come.”

 

Gereth led them to the next landing up, and then, to their surprise, he took them through the doorway which was curtained with translucent blue silks.

 

“I thought we were heading to the top.” Link said in confusion.

 

Gereth glanced upwards and then back to Link, “We are, but there may be a more efficient way to get there. Come with me.”

 

Within the chamber he led them into was a large, curious device. It was a pedestal with a golden frame like one might find holding a globe of the world. On either “pole” of the frame was a gilded statue of a Sindorei woman with her palms outstretched towards a giant translucent orb within which swirled crimson mystical energies. A current of similarly colored energy flowed between the palms of the statues and the red orb.

 

“What is this?” McBride asked. “I’ve never seen such a device before.”

 

“You likely wouldn’t have.” Gereth replied. “I imagine few within even the Horde are familiar with them. It is a magical technology the Sindorei don’t lightly share with anyone. It is called an Orb of Translocation. It allows a being to instantly teleport from one location to another, either within the same building, or across a continent. This one leads to a separate chamber just below Maester Duazhen’s laboratory.”

 

Images of a device with a similar function erupted from Link’s deepest memories. It involved rings surrounding a person and a flash of blue light.

 

“You didn’t think he walked every step of the staircase just to get to his laboratory, did you?” Gereth asked.

 

“If he was a mage, why not just teleport directly there?” McBride asked.

 

“He did at times, but his elemental servants couldn’t, and teleportation still takes a significant amount of mana energies in order to perform. This device makes the process much less draining and quicker.” Gereth replied. “It may not work now that teleportation magic has been suppressed within the city, but I thought it worth a try to save us time and energy we do not have.”

 

He then instructed, “Just touch the globe.”

 

Gereth placed the palm of his hand on the globe first, and then with a flash of reddish light he was gone from the chamber. Then, one by one, the remaining members of the party and began to disappear from the chamber in a bright flash of crimson until only Link was left. He put his fingers to the glowing red orb and pressed his palm against it.

 

In an instant it seemed like time and space had rearranged themselves and then came back together around him. He felt somewhat nauseous as the room around him came back into existence.

 

And then the next thing Link knew, blazing balls of blue fire flew past his head to strike the sandstone colored wall behind him. The wall erupted into sapphire flames which strangely caused it to ice over even while it burned.

 

Without thought, he dodged to one side and rolled to a crouching position. The Master Sword appeared instantaneously in his hand, and his shield went up in front of him as he tried to get his bearings and see what was happening.

 

Beside him the other six members of his party were pinned down in a fight. Across the sparsely decorated chamber was the only doorway framed in polished, rose colored marble. In between his companions and the doorway were at least four purple robed mages with hoods drawn over their heads and black clawed, skeletal hands. They were behind several huge, menacing creatures Link had never seen before. They appeared to be made of nothing but hardened stone and fluid green energy. A malevolent energy flowed off of them in waves. They stood on two legs and had two appendages like arms, but that was where the description “humanoid” ended.

 

“I thought there weren’t supposed to be any of these things here!” Link shouted.

 

Gereth was not far from Link, returning the demon mages’ frostfire with flames of his own. Brother Garen stood next to him but not too close as he chanted, his own hands blazing with Holy Light which he then directed in blasts against the monstrosities. Zelda and McBride stood in front of the mage with their shields and blades out, protecting Gereth and Brother Garen while Shaggara dealt blow after blow against the creatures with the Sword of Mastery. Next to her, an immense bear with fangs and sharp claws stood its ground against the stone creatures, swiping at them with powerful swipes of its huge front paws.

 

“The Laboratory is through that doorway and up the stairs!” The Forsaken mage shouted back as he unleashed another salvo of fiery wrath at the hostile creatures of shadow. “Leave these things to us! Take Zelda and go! You’re the only ones who have any idea how to end this!”

 

“We can’t just leave you here with these things!” Zelda shouted as her shield took hits from the elemental stone creatures. She countered with strikes from her own thin blade which shattered and chipped away rock from the infernal monsters.

 

“Go!” McBride added as his own sword shattered chips of rock off the creature’s appendages. “We can handle ourselves. The sooner you get up there, the sooner we can all go home!”

 

Link looked at Zelda, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. They both knew their friends were right.

 

Sword and shield in hand, Link charged the mages who stood in his way. The closest to him felt the full impact of his shield as it smash into where the hooded figure’s face should have been. The next one after that lost the skeletal arm it had been casting spells with. And then Link was out the doorway and onto the stairwell. He was soon joined by Zelda, her own sword and shield in her hands. Behind her, shattered stone lay smashed across the floor.

 

Zelda replaced her sword into her scabbard and her shield where it rested on her back. Holding out her right hand, a beam of light lengthened into the shape of a golden recurve bow. She drew an arrow of pure light from the quiver on her belt and knocked it. She then nodded to Link.

 

Then with Sword drawn and arrow at the ready, they climbed the remaining stairs to the laboratory door. The sounds of battle continued behind them as their companions kept the Demon King’s minions at bay.

 

The door to the laboratory was made of a dark wood, inlaid with green glowing crystals and trimmed in gold. A smoothly polished ebony wooden handle was set into the the door at waist level.

 

Taking a deep breath, Link reached out for the handle, but Zelda caught his hand and held it.

 

“Don’t.” She said. “This is a mage’s laboratory. It’s never that simple. If Gereth were here he’d be able to tell us if the door was booby trapped or not. Now, we’ve got to figure it out for ourselves.”

 

Link nodded and withdrew his hand. He and Zelda studied the door. He then began to pay special attention to the crystals set into the door. There were five small crystals arranged in a half circle pattern above one larger crystal set into the center of the door.

 

“What about this?” He said, pointing out the pattern to Zelda.

 

Zelda studied the pattern. _Five smaller crystals for five fingertips?_ She wondered. _But then would it be coded somehow so that only the master of the tower could gain entry? No. That wouldn’t make sense. Then neither his apprentice nor his servants could enter when he needed them to._

 

Passing her bow into her left hand, she placed the fingertips of her right hand on the door, one on each of the smaller glowing green crystals. Then she pressed her palm against the large crystal in the middle of and just below the smaller ones. The door glowed with a crimson light, and then faded away into a mist revealing an open doorway and a small number of steps that led upwards and curved around beyond their sight.

 

Link entered first, shield raised, Sword at the ready. Zelda followed after him, eyes searching for a target for her arrow.

 

Then the mark on her right hand began to burn. Zelda glanced at the back of her hand to see a single triangle lit up with its golden white light. Link too felt the burning sensation, though he didn’t bother to glance at it. He knew what it meant. The three pieces of Hyrule’s triforce were near each other. And if he and Zelda knew, so did the bearer of the Triforce of Power.

 

They emerged at the top of the steps on one side of a large circular room. A metallic worktable covered in wizard’s tools and instruments was to their right. To the left was a tall metal frame with open cuffs at the top and bottom which looked to be restraints. Strange equipment was attached to the frame with cables. Across the room was a large open doorway which led out onto a balcony.

 

And on that balcony stood a tall, muscular man in black mail and leather armor. Though his back was too them, there was no mistaking his greenish brown skin and flaming red hair which covered his head. Except for his orange-red hair, Zelda realized, he did resemble a male of Shaggara’s people very much.

 

“I was wondering how long it would take you two to find me here.” The man said in a deep, rich voice. It was the kind of voice one could listen to for hours. That is, if it didn’t come from a being so malevolent and malicious. “I suppose you arrived in the same manner as I.”

 

Neither Link nor Zelda replied to him. They had come too far, and the atrocity he had perpetrated on this world ran too deep to engage in pleasantries.

 

“I wonder if this world treated you kinder than it treated me. Of course, it wouldn’t surprise me if it did. That seems to be the role fate has laid out for us, doesn’t it?” He continued. “Oh, I thought the use of the undead knights as a distraction was well played. I really didn’t know you were here until my servants in the translocation room alerted me. It seems the Triforce of Wisdom is useful for something after all. Isn’t it, _Princess_?”

 

He continued to keep his back turned to them. His posture seemed relaxed and casual. It was off-putting as he continued to talk with his back to them.

 

“It’s too bad they’re losing numbers quickly. If you want, come out to the balcony and see for yourself.” Ganondorf invited with a gesture.

 

Neither Link nor Zelda moved.

 

Ganondorf continued. “No? Suit yourselves. They’ve been fighting valiantly, I’ll give them that. But their death magic is of little use against these servants of mine. You cannot boil the blood of an opponent who has none, now can you? They’ve been relying on brute force and their skills with those magnificent Ebon Blades of theirs. They are down less than half of their strength now. I’m particularly impressed with...”

 

“Enough!” Zelda shouted with authority. “End this, Ganondorf, so we can all go home! Leave these people in peace! They’ve already suffered enough!”

 

“Oh, but I intend to make them suffer so much more.” He said, the tone of his voice growing far less conversational and far, far more menacing. “And I do think you have mistaken me for someone else.” His voice then became deeper, and took on a hellish, demonic quality to it. “Of course, none of us are quite ourselves these days, are we, _Hylia_?”

 

Ganondorf’s hair then burst into real flames. He slowly turned around to face them. The reddish orange flames ran down the length of his greenish face and formed a beard and mustache of fire. His eyes glowed with an unholy darkness.

 

Zelda’s breath nearly caught in her throat before she steadied herself for what she knew had to come. He had to be stopped, regardless of who or what he was.

 

“Demise.” She addressed him.

 

“Yes. I am. Yours and this world’s.” The being in possession of Ganondorf’s body replied. “And unlike in Hyrule, there are real beings here who still worship me, surrender themselves to me. The taste of their faith is sweeter than you would ever allow yourself to know.”

 

“Abomination!” Zelda cried and let fly her arrow of pure light.

 

Link launched himself at Ganondorf’s form, Master Sword raised high for the strike.

 

* * *

 

Two more of the infernal stone creatures went down and were shattered across the polished floor of the translocation chamber. Shaggara and McBride fought the demons side by side, her sword and his shield bashing and slashing at the unholy elemental monsters.

 

Fueled by the divine light which had infused him, McBride fought faster and harder than he ever had before. His strikes had been so rapid and powerful that he had been able to hold his own against both stone demon and mage. But as the elven princess and her Hero got farther away, he found his strength and speed waning. But he refused to give in.

 

Shaggara spun and slashed and beat the monsters back with the Sword of Mastery. Each strike of the blade’s power tore off more and more of the infernals’ stone forms. The Sword struck with the strength of a bear, the speed of a wild stag, and with the agility of a shadow panther. Her dragonscale armor allowed no blow that managed to land harm her. In spite of her half century of age, she felt young, wild, savage, and invincible against these nether born demons and let out a great battle cry of exhultation as she fought.

 

Oliver had taken the brunt of the infernal’s attacks. His great dire bear form could take tremendous amounts of punishment, but it had limits. And as the Hylian Princess departed, he too felt his own speed and strength wane, and more blows landed against his hardened hide than he had intended.

 

Gereth came up closer to McBride to redirect his own attacks towards the infernals, hoping to finish them off. Then, out of the corner of his dead eyes, he saw a ball of dark flames shot at McBride. Without thinking it through, Gereth spread out his arms and shielded McBride from the attack with his own body.

 

“What the…!” McBride exclaimed as he watched the scene unfold as if in slow motion.\

 

The flaming ball of shadow and darkness struck Gereth in the center of his chest. Tendrils of shadow and darkness spread and duck into Gereth’s living corpse. Violet and blue electricity arced around the mage’s form and he cried out in pain. Gereth then dropped to the ground writhing violently.

 

Shaggara had turned her head just in time to see her friend go down, and then time slowed down for her as well as she called out, “Gereth!” And then as his rotting mage’s body seized and convulsed on the stone floor, she screamed, “GERETH!!!” And rushed to his side, forgetting the battle at hand.

 

Garen instinctively rushed to the fallen mage’s side as well, without thinking he began calling on the Light to heal him.

 

“NO!!!” Shaggara yelled at him when she saw the Light fill his hands with its normally healing powers. “YOU’LL DESTROY HIM!!!” Tears began to fall from her eyes.

 

Garen stopped, realizing she was right. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do that to him.

 

McBride and Oliver alone were left to hold the line against their foes. And then Shaggara called for the Druid.

 

“Druid! Your healing magic is not of the light! Come quickly before the shadow consumes him!” Shaggara cried out in desperation. “Marshall! Please! Hold them off!”

 

McBride had never seen an Orc warrior consumed by grief before. He had assumed that it didn’t happen. But he knew all too well how grief and panic could paralyze even the most veteran of warriors when a loved one’s life was at stake. And it was a panicked love for the undead mage that he saw right then in Shaggara’s eyes.

 

 _The mage saved my life by risking his. Now, I owe my life to them both._ The realization struck him, as did the irony.

 

There were still two infernals left, and a single mage. For the five of them, it would have been difficult. For just him alone, he would only be buying them needed time.

 

_So be it._

 

“On my honor, lady.” McBride nodded to her. “A McBride never leaves his debts unpaid.”

 

The Marshall called up what strength and courage he had left within him, said a quick prayer to what god or goddess may be listening, and attacked the infernals with a renewed vengeance. Forsaken or not, Orc or not, they would not perish today. He swore it.

 

He rammed the infernal in front of him hard with the face of his shield and spun, striking the infernal’s torso with a backhanded slash. Rock and stone chips flew and the infernal fell backwards, but did not shatter.

 

But the real threat to all of them was the continued existence of the mage. The devilish stone elementals were protecting the demon mage while he worked his damnable spells. The mage was the priority.

 

Calling upon every reserve of anger and rage he had felt, McBride charged the mage, leaping at the demon whom he caught off guard. His shield hit the creature hard, and his sword slashed viciously at the creature’s appendages. The mage had no time to react or cast another spell as it found itself hacked into fragments and cast across the polished stone floor.

 

Then McBride felt something like a hundred hammers hit the back of his neck. A terrible pain shot through his body as his neck snapped. And then the last thought which would ever run through his mind was, _Today, I have repaid my debts._

 

The warrior’s lifeless body dropped, hitting the floor hard for the weight of his plate armor. Then the two stone infernals turned to the group of intruders gathered around the corpse on the floor.

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

 

Link’s blade fell hard against Ganondorf’s form. And then it hit metal on metal and Link was deflected back. In the same way Zelda’s arrow struck the edge of an ebon blade as black as the night. In an instant, a massive, wicked black sword appeared in either of the Demon King’s hands. Arcs of violet energies surrounded the blades with violent, unholy powers.

 

Likewise, heavy, black plate armor, emblazoned with demonic face and horns, appeared over his entire body. Only his head was not encased.

 

“Now, we’ve done this so many times before, did you think I would make it that easy, dear girl?” The voice of Demise taunted.

 

“And we’ve dropped you every time!” Link shouted as he attacked again, the Master Sword swinging around in a deadly arc.

 

Arrows of pure light flew at the Demon in rapid succession, each aimed for his unarmored head.

 

Ganondorf smiled. The corners of his mouth twisted upwards as though he were enjoying this. The sword in his right hand countered Link’s attack easily, and quickly shifted to block Link’s secondary strike. The sword in his left hand merely pointed at the arrows and a blast of foul energies shot from its tip and disintegrated them.

 

“As they say,” Ganondorf returned smoothly, “That was then. This is now.” And then he laughed. A deep, gutteral laugh that filled the laboratory.

 

“Yes, it is.” Link then said and his whole body began to contort and transform into fangs, claws, and fur. The savage snarl of a worgen tore through the laboratory as Link’s feral fighting instincts took over.

 

He pressed his attack on the demon king with a renewed fury, powered by the increased strength and speed of his worgen muscles and sinews. Spinning, thrusting, slashing savagely, the Master Sword flew so fast in his hands that it could barely be seen by mortal eyes. Fangs snapped at Ganondorf’s face, as Link’s shield came around time and again to smash into the possessed sorcereror’s chest and face.

 

But the Demon King was able to meet every strike. Zelda continued her assault with the arrows of light, moving around the chamber, firing arrow after arrow at the creature. Those that were not intercepted in mid air struck his plate armor with explosions of holy radiance, but did little damage.

 

Ganondorf’s laughter continued as a great void of darkness built in front of him, pulsing with unholy energies. Then in a burst of shadow and violet electrical arcs, it exploded around the Demon King’s armored form throwing Link and Zelda both back with such force that they flew across the laboratory to hit the opposing wall hard before falling to the stone floor.

 

“You see now, do you not?” The demonic voice continued. “You cannot win this fight. You will die along with this troublesome world. I will see the fragments of its shattered husk scattered into the void like I saw Draenor’s and a hundred worlds before it.”

 

He then began to walk slowly, deliberately towards them as he spoke, his twin, monstrous swords at his sides.

 

“And then I will see Hyrule’s dead husk along with it.” He continued. “Chaos is the only real truth. All things come from it, and all things go to it. I am merely one who hastens the advent of this natural order.”

 

“Never!!” Zelda cried as she brought herself to her feet. Her sword and shield appeared in her hands. Her fierce eyes blazed with Holy Light. Holy Energies flowed from her and into the polished stone of the floor, surrounding her and Link with it’s life.

 

Link felt her Holy Light flow into him, restoring his worgen body and clearing his mind. He needed heavier armor against this foe, a form which packed more of a punch. He then thought of the form Oliver had taken, holding his own against the stone demons.

 

Link’s body enlarged and his clothes and weapons melted into coarser fur naturally armored with thorium fibers, and denser muscles. Soon, his entire body was enveloped in the rage and power of the mighty Azerothian dire bear. A bone shaking roar erupted from between his powerful jaws as he charged the black armored devil.

 

“ _Exorciste!_ ” Zelda cried, pointing her thin but strong blade at Ganondorf.

 

Golden white energies of Holy Light shot forth from the tip of her blade and struck the warrior in the chest. Just as Link slammed into his midsection, swiping and clawing the warrior, beating him with powerful swipes of his paws.

 

“Arghhh!!!” Ganondorf cried as the Holy Light struck him and began its purifying and purging work, attacking the demonic entity that had taken possession of him.

 

The Light blazed bright across his breastplate, burning and purifying while Ganondorf cried out in pain and disorientation. Link didn’t wait, he struck the demon hard again and again in the chest with his powerful blows where the Holy Light had opened a crack in his armor, pressing the attack.

 

Ganondorf backed away from the monstrous bear in front of him, sword held across his chest to protect himself.

 

“Damn you, you holy bitch! I will see your rotting body on a pike as a trophy! And there will be no one there to ascend you! I swear it!” He roared at Zelda who stood fast, shield raised, sword in hand.

 

“You will not triumph this day!” Zelda shouted back, and then she ran at him sword raised high.

 

Ganondorf’s blades swung hard and fast at the dire bear in front of him, catching the naturally armored fur again and again, taking pieces of hair and flesh out with every blow. Then Zelda came between the bear and the blades, taking them on her own shield as Link backed off only to change shape again, and then disappear completely from sight.

 

“Your ‘Hero’ has abandoned you, little whore!” Ganondorf taunted.

 

Zelda’s sword flashed quick and struck true in response as her blade struck the hard plate metal again and again looking for the chinks in the armor where the slender blade could work its way in and cut the straps holding it place.

 

The next thing Ganondorf felt was razor sharp claws and teeth slicing into the back of his neck as the weight of a great jungle cat hung off his back. The cat roared and snarled as it dug in hard seeking the mortal backbone he knew had to be there.

 

“Ahhhh!” Ganondorf screamed as he spun around so hard, the jungle cat flew off his back to land on all fours a distance away.

 

Link prepared to pounce again. He leaped at his target, his strong back legs, built for chasing down fast game and tearing it to shreds, propelling him forwards and into the air.

 

And then pain shot through his body and he landed in a heap on the floor as a bolt of shadow energies struck him hard, filling his body with intense searing pain. No longer able to concentrate, his body reverted to its natural, Hylian form as he convulsed with arcs of dark energies surging around him. The Master Sword, gripped tightly by his left hand in the fit of seizures, was useless as he fought to maintain consciousness.

 

“LINK!!!” Zelda screamed as she watched him fall.

 

“A pity, I was so looking forward to seeing what other amusing forms he could take. It made this so much more interesting. Come, bitch. It’s just you and me now, just like we started this ten thousand years ago.” The voice of the ancient demon lord taunted her.

 

* * *

 

The infernals turned towards the small group gathered around the fallen, undead mage. Their stone legs pounded hard on the floor as they marched towards them.

 

Brother Garen was at a loss as to how to be of use towards helping his rediscovered kinsman. He dared not use his Holy prayers for fear of injuring the undead mage further, but he was certain the Holy Light could remove the shadow curse from him. Anger, guilt, and pain filled his heart as internally he cried out to the Holy Light for help and guidance.

 

Then he looked up to see what the others did not as the stone demons barreled towards them.

 

 _NO!!!_ He raged within.

 

Standing to his feet he cried out to the Holy Light, “ _Scutum!_ ” And a bright shield of sacred energies surrounded all of them.

 

“ _Pyrsancta!_ ” He cried out again and white flames of Holy Fire erupted, bursting and blazing forth around the first stone demon. Cracks formed across the rocks, and huge chunks of the gray and black stone flew off of it.

 

“You will not take them, netherspawn!” He cried out with determination as the Light surrounded him with its pure energies, and then was unleashed at them in glorious, radiant splendor. It struck the stone and sundered the foul energies of the creatures, destroying the unholy bonds that held the rock together. Both infernals fell apart and collapsed.

 

It was then Garen saw the fallen body of his friend, Marshall McBride. He left Oliver and Shaggara and ran to him. His hands, still blazing with radiant Light, he thrust over the man’s body and began to pray furiously for him, beseeching, begging, and pleading with the Light to spare him, and return his soul to his body.

 

But there was no response. No movement. No flutter of the eyes, or twitch of the fingers. McBride’s body lay still. Garen’s cheeks became wet, and he tasted the salt of tears on his lips.

 

 _His spirit is released._ His mind told him. _He’s gone. There’s nothing more I can do._

 

And then the emotion and helplessnes of the moment overwhelmed the priest as great racking sobs began to convulse him. The strength of his faith had failed two men who were like family to him that day, and the knowledge of it stung him hard as he knelt, weeping over the soldier’s body.

 

“I’m sorry, my friend.” He said, repeating it over and over, beating his fists against the floor as he thought of the man’s daughter back in Northshire who was waiting for him to return. “I’m so, so sorry. I am not strong enough.”

 

After several minutes, he straightened up and placed his fingers over McBride’s eyes, closing them. “Be one with the Light, my friend. May you find life in its eternal embrace.”

 

On the other side of the room, Oliver was having little more success as he focused his own healing powers of nature over Gereth’s convulsing form. The green energies of nature flowed around his hands as they passed over the forsaken mage and across his red robed body. He concentrated hard, but could make little progress except to keep from losing the mage entirely to the darkness.

 

“Why isn’t it working?” Shaggara demanded, tears streaming down her face.

 

“I don’t know. I can keep him with us, but just barely. The shadow curse is draining whatever force keeps his spirit tied to his corpse to begin with. The nature magic can replenish it, but just barely. I can’t stop it. We need the Light to counter the darkness.” Oliver replied, his deep lupine voice nearly snarling.

 

“But the Light will kill him completely!” Shaggara protested. “What about his staff? It was given to him by Ysera herself! Surely it has some power to lend you?”

 

Oliver’s eyes went to the staff and then he gripped it with his hand. Immediately he felt the truth of Shaggara’s statement as the living essence of the forest, field, and marsh flowed through his hand and gave him new strength. The green energies which had surrounded his hands intensified and he directed it against the shadow, feeding Gereth’s body with the life force of the natural world.

 

Gereth cried out in pain, and the shadow seemed to recede. But it did not disappear entirely.

 

“My friend...” Shaggara whispered as Gereth’s cries echoed through the chamber. She put her hand on his withered arm and continued, “I’ve never told you this before, but I need you to continue to be. I don’t care if you’re alive or dead, but I want you here with me. Please, don’t leave me now. I can’t lose you too. I went my own way in Orgrimmar because I knew we couldn’t be together, not like I wanted. I don’t care about that anymore. I just want you to stay. I… I love you.”

 

She bowed her head, hoping that Gereth could hear her and somehow fight this shadow that threatened him.

 

In the distance from above them, screams and evil laughter could be heard. And then a name was screamed clearly, _Link!_ It was Zelda’s voice.

 

“They need you and your sword more up there, now.” A human voice came from behind her, speaking gently.

 

A comforting hand was placed over her shoulder, and a soothing peace flooded her. It did not take away her pain, but it allowed her mind to clear from the grief.

 

“Oliver and I will look after Gereth. I swear we will do all in our power to keep him from oblivion.” Brother Garen’s voice, filled with emotion and pain told her. “I swear it on the Holy Light.”

 

“How can I leave him now? He needs me.” Shaggara replied.

 

“Azeroth needs you, warrior.” Oliver returned. “Ysera has chosen you. Be her vengeance against the demon who tries to destroy our world.” He then nodded towards Gereth. “And him.”

 

On her hand, a set of three solid, golden white triangles blazed with a furious light. That strong, greenish brown hand curled into a fist as she warred with herself.

 

 _Courage. Wisdom. Power._ The words, in Ysera’s voice, flew forcefully to her heart and mind. _Rise, Hero of Azeroth_.

 

“For Azeroth.” She replied as she stood up in response. Her expression pained, but hardened. “And for Gereth.”

 

Then her eyes became hard as adamantium as a dark storm built behind them. She drew the Sword of Mastery from her back and held it tightly. As she did, her orcish eyes blazed with a greenish light.

 

“I am vengeance.” She declared, her voice dangerous and lethal, and then started for the stairs upwards towards the laboratory.

 

* * *

 

Zelda’s sword moved like lightning as she twisted and slashed at the Demon King. Link still lay writhing in pain on the floor. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, desperately, but she couldn’t. If she was distracted for even a fraction of a second, her corpse would be dead next to him. So she poured her pain and frustration into her attacks, letting it sharpen her focus as she moved and dodged away from the monster only to smash her shield against him seconds later.

 

But she was tiring quickly. She couldn’t keep this up, and her own strength was weakening.

 

“ _Sanctamagna!_ ” She cried out, and an explosion of Holy Light flew from her form, striking the Demon King and running across his armor. It blew him off of his feet and backwards, but he did not fall.

 

“Your light is waning, my dear.” Ganondorf grinned. “And my darkness is waxing more strongly than you know. Soon, I will emerge fully into this world, and then nothing will stop me.”

 

 _He’s not at full strength?!_ Zelda’s hope rose. _He can still be defeated!_

 

Ganondorf’s black swords struck hard and fast against her own sword and shield, and she stumbled backwards and fell hard on her backside. His laughter echoed around the chamber.

 

She thrust out her hands and cried out, “ _Thumosiste!_ ”

 

Great bursts of light flew from her hands, but the demon king caught them on his blades and deflected them into the walls. He then walked slowly, menacingly towards her.

 

“And now, my dear little research assistant, you are mine.” The demonic voice declared in triumph.

 

And then a blast of green energies struck him across the face, throwing him backwards in pain.

 

“What... is... this!!!!” He shouted in anger.

 

“Vengeance.” A raspy, female Orc voice returned as she leaped at him, a long shining blade blazing with the energies of nature poised to strike.

 

The Sword of Mastery landed hard against Ganondorf’s own twin swords which he had just barely raised in time to block her. He shoved her back with those swords as he quickly assessed this new nuisance.

 

“Foolish woman! How dare you interrupt my triumph!!!” The Demon King raged.

 

“Princess go!!! See to your Hero!! No more of my friends will die today!!!” She called out as she attacked, raining down strike after strike on her black armored foe. She moved with a speed, strength, and grace as she fought that his blades could only barely match.

 

The Demon King slashed and struck back, but his own blades of darkness and shadow could not pierce the green dragon’s scales when they managed to land. The power of nature’s own life surrounded her as she snarled at him savagely. In his long existence, he had only fought one other who carried such power within himself, and he had just thrown the fool boy down writhing in pain.

 

Zelda hurried to Link’s side. “ _Phosagion!_ ” She cried out as she wrapped her arms around him, tears coming to her eyes, as her hands and arms blazed with the pure, holy, healing divine light that had been within her all along. That light flowed into Link’s writhing body, purging and destroying the shadow darkness that it found, healing his wounds gently but rapidly.

 

Shaggara jumped and spun and the Sword of Mastery slashed through the air in a deadly arc, breaking through his defenses and striking his black plated shoulders. The armor cracked, but held as she followed through on her leap, somersaulting over him and landing on her feet in another attack stance.

 

She then raised the Sword high in the air and great energies flowed to it in bright, greenish arcs of lightning. With her sword charged she ran at the demon and struck hard at him as he just turned to meet her. The charged Sword of Mastery struck the blade in his left hand and shattered it with a great explosion of power which threw them both back away from each other.

 

“Arrghhhh!!!!” The Demon King yelled. “I will have your head, Orc!!”

 

“This is our world, demon!! Go back to the nether where you belong!!” Shaggara raged at him.

 

And then a burst of holy energy struck Ganondorf from behind, cracking the back plate of his armor further.

 

Ganondorf turned to see Link, shield raised, Master Sword in hand behind him. All trace of the dark curse was gone from him, and he was fully healed from the wounds the Demon King had inflicted.

 

“NO!!” The demonic voice howled in rage. “You cannot defeat me this time!! My armor is still holding and I am nearly complete!!!”

 

 _His armor._ Shaggara then realized. _We must destroy his armor. But how? It would take the strength of a dragon to…_ And then Ysera’s words came back to her, _May my armor protect you as it protects me._

 

Shaggara gripped the Sword tightly with both hands and focused on the Green Dragon Ysera, she imagined her strength, and speed, and the power in her limbs. Doing so, she began to change shape, growing larger and longer. The green scales of her armor spread out over her entire body and massive leathery wings erupted from her back.

 

As Ganondorf faced Link, a great serpentine roar erupted behind him. He turned again to see a huge, majestic dragon with green scales and purple highlights. He raised his one remaining sword to strike at her, but was met with a blast of burning, searing emerald dragonflame that enveloped him completely.

 

Ganondorf cried out in pain and rage, but he could do nothing as the dragonfire burned and heated his armor until dark cracks ran through every inch of it, and it buckled. While he was engulfed in the flames. Shaggara swiped at him with her mighty claws again and again, beating against the armor until it finally gave way and disintegrated.

 

The Demon King raged on futility as Link leaped to the attack with the Master Sword. Ganondorf’s arm responded and he met the blows, but he was weakened. Unable to counter every one of them, and several fell against the dark leather and mail, cutting through it like butter.

 

“Fools! Do you really think you can kill me?! I am immortal! And you don’t have the power to seal me away this time!” Ganondorf raged with Demise’s voice.

 

“Link, Shaggara! Use the Swords together!!” Zelda called out. “With both the Swords combined, you might be able to open a rift to return him to his prison in the Sacred Realm!!”

 

 _The Sword?_ Shaggara remembered, and her form changed again, back to the Orc warrior woman with the dragonscale armor. The Sword of Mastery was in her hand. She ran to join Link and together they drove back the Demon King, finally shattering his other sword. Ganondorf’s mail and leather was torn to shreds by the Blade of Evil’s Bane, and the Blade of Nature’s Wrath.

 

The Demon King fell backwards, hard onto the polished stone floor.

 

“Together?” Link asked Shaggara.

 

“Together.” She agreed.

 

They both raised their swords high in the air, drawing on the combined holy and natural energies which charged their swords. Link closed his eyes and focused on that place outside of time and space which had been the heart of his world. He then lowered his blade towards the fallen Demon King, and Shaggara followed suit.

 

“Now.” Link said.

 

Power flew from the blades and enveloped Ganondorf and the demon within him. The energies surrounded him, contorting and twisting his form, and then he faded in an explosion of light and power.

 

And then the evil king was gone.

 

The stone floor beneath where the demon king had fallen was blackened and scorched from the tremendous release of energy. But there was no trace left that the Gerudo king had ever set foot in the laboratory.

 

“Is he destroyed?” Shaggara asked coldly.

 

“No.” Link replied, his voice filled with exhaustion. “And Zelda and I will see him again, but not in this lifetime, and not today. I hope your world never has to see him again.”

 

“If we do, I don’t know how, but I will be waiting.” Shaggara responded, spitting at the scorched floor.

 

And then she remembered, her expression softening into fear, “Gereth!” And she ran to the stairs back to the translocation room.

 

Wordlessly, Link and Zelda looked at each other with worry in their eyes, and, though exhausted, ran after her down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Gereth still writhed on the floor, gasps of pain flew from his mouth as the dark curse continued to wage its war to separate his spirit from his fetid corpse. Oliver fought hard to keep it at bay, but it was a battle he could not win, and he knew it.

 

Brother Garen sat next to Gereth on the stone floor. He prayed for his spirit, that the Light might grant him peace upon his final passing, but that was all he could do for his sister’s Forsaken son. Tears flowed down his face and into his gray beard as he could not chance touching Gereth for fear of causing more harm to him.

 

Shaggara reentered the room and ran to her best friend’s side, coming to her knees next to the undead mage.

 

“Why is he still like this?!” She demanded, angry and hurt. “You said you would help him! You swore!”

 

“Oliver is doing all he can for my nephew.” Garen told her, his voice wracked with guilt and pain.

 

“The shadow is fighting hard against his spirit. I can only just keep it at bay, but I can’t do this forever, not even with the staff.” Oliver told her, his raspy lupine voice tired and worn out.

 

“No!” Shaggara cried out. “I will not lose him! I can’t!”

 

She shouted at Gereth, “I want you to live!” And then louder in desperation, “LIVE!!!”

 

“Shaggara...” Zelda’s voice came to her as a gentle, feminine hand embraced her arm.

 

“If ever I needed the help of the gods it is now!” Shaggara raged. “Where are they?!” She demanded as she leaned over Gereth’s convulsing corpse.

 

Zelda was silent after that. Link stood at a distance, watching respectfully, mournfully. He silently damned Demise a thousand times over for the pain he inflicted.

 

Shaggara wept over her friend. Silently, in her heart a clarity of desire emerged as she prayed, hoping someone would hear her desperate plea.

 

_Goddesses of the Triforce, I don’t know if you can hear me, I don’t even know if you are real. But if you can, and if you are, I want this man to live! I want this land to live! I wish all their lives restored! Bring life to Azeroth again!_

 

As she poured all of her heart and faith into this single prayer for healing and life, the solid triforce mark on her hand began to burn and glow. It shone brighter and brighter, filling the chamber with it’s radiant light.

 

“What is happening!” Oliver asked in fear.

 

“The Triforce!” Zelda responded in awe. “Shaggara has invoked it!”

 

Radiant waves of transforming, purifying, sacred light flowed out from the tower, spilling across the floating city of Dalaran, and spreading rapidly across the befouled continent of Northrend and out across Azeroth’s oceans. In minutes, their entire world was enveloped in its energies as the Triforce responded to the power of Shaggara’s love for her undead friend.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

 

Gereth awoke the next morning in the strangest way. As he returned to consciousness, the last thing he remembered was a nightmare of pain and his dearest friend Shaggara crying out his name in anguish.

 

 _Where am I?_ He asked himself. And then he remembered, _I had stepped in front of the Alliance Marshall, McBride, and took a shadow pain curse for him. And then the last thing I remember was the pain on the stone floor of the translocation room._

 

As he felt his surroundings, however, his sense of touch was telling him that he was lying on a soft mattress with silken sheets. A pillow was beneath his head. Sheets and a blanket covered his otherwise only partially clothed form.

 

 _Someone living undressed me and put me into a bed? Who on Azeroth could stomach such a thing?_ Gereth asked himself as he opened his eyes to see his surroundings.

 

He was in a large bedroom meant for several people. A suite at an inn more suited to humans, dwarves, and elves in Dalaran by the elegant and luxurious look of the furniture. The four poster bed he was in appeared to be the largest in the room. Several comfortable chairs and a long couch also decorated the guest room. Though he had never had the pleasure of stepping inside, he guessed he was in a room at the Alliance friendly inn in Dalaran known as _A Hero’s Welcome_.

 

 _Why would they bring me here?_ He wondered.

 

As he looked around the room, he saw to his right, seated in a chair next to his bed, a greenish brown skinned Orc warrior woman in green dragonscale armor. A magnificent sword in a scabbard with an emerald pommel still hung at her back. Her head was nodded and her eyes were closed in sleep. There was something more about her. She looked different than before, younger like an Orc woman more in her twenties than her fifties. The gray streak which had highlighted her warriors braid was gone. She was fiercely, savagely beautiful as she slept in a way he had never thought to realize before, and his heart nearly skipped a beat.

 

 _What has transpired here?_ He wondered.

 

“Oh, my dear, you didn’t stay by my bed this entire time, did you?” He asked aloud.

 

And then he realized his voice was different. It was no longer raspy, but had the rich quality of a tenor’s voice. It had been so long since he had heard his voice this way that he almost didn’t recognize it.

 

Shaggara’s eyes opened at the sound of the strange voice and she turned her weary, exhausted head in his direction.

 

“Gereth?” She asked tentatively. “You’re awake?”

 

“Yes, it appears I am.” Gereth replied. “And it also appears I missed a great deal. Did we win? Is the monster gone?”

 

Shaggara nodded her head as she continued to stare at the mage, her eyes beginning to mist over. “Sargeras is gone for now.” She replied.

 

“And the Blight? Has it been stopped?” Gereth asked.

 

“Yes, my friend.” Shaggara replied. “The Blight is no more. All that it befouled has been restored.”

 

Gereth took a deep breath and sighed.

 

“Good.” He replied as he leaned back into the bed again. There was something that felt odd about his body.

 

“I must be experiencing some lingering effects from the shadow curse. I feel quite strange.” Gereth told her.

 

Shaggara broke out into a huge, beautiful grin as she said, “Look at your hands.”

 

“My hands? Why should I look at my hands?” He questioned in confusion.

 

“Look at your hands, Gereth. Please.” She told him again.

 

Gereth brought his hands out from beneath the covers and looked at them. Then his heart began to race as he sat up straight in the bed. It pounded hard in his chest like it hadn’t done for decades.

 

 _My heart is beating?!_ It struck him hard as he gazed at his hands.

 

They were covered in living, breathing, tanned skin and a light dusting of golden blond hairs. Whole blood vessels could be seen beneath the skin, and he realized the strange feeling he had was blood pumping through living veins again.

 

In disbelief he ran those hands over his bare chest, legs, arms, and face. Everywhere on him there was living skin and hair. Even his beard stubble had grown slightly overnight.

 

The realization was overwhelming. He was alive. He was a living, breathing human being again.

 

“Hah!” He exclaimed as his own eyes misted over.

 

“HAHHH!!!” He then yelped for joy. “I’m alive! Shaggara, I’m alive!!! I’m whole!!! I’m human again!!!” He then laughed out loud.

 

Shaggara nodded. “I know, my dearest friend.” Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks at his joy.

 

“But how is this possible?” He asked expectantly, his voice full of emotion.

 

“The Golden Flame.” Shaggara responded.

 

“You used it… to heal _me_?” Gereth felt in awe, and humbled at the thought. “But why?”

 

Shaggara’s eyes met his, and then he understood as he saw the love in them. He had never noticed how her eyes sparkled until that moment.

 

“And not just you, brother!” A rich, masculine voice called out from a doorway across the room.

 

A dark haired, light skinned, middle aged human warrior with a square jaw, and rugged good looks entered the room. He wore the livery and armor of a Knight of the Ebon Blade. But he was very much alive.

 

“Lord Commander Arete?” Gereth asked as he then recognized him.

 

Arete nodded. “We’ve all been restored, Gereth.” He then repeated it again, “ _All_ of us, brother.”

 

The implications of the Death Knight’s statement took a few seconds to process through Gereth’s mind, but when it did a look of shock and surprise filled his features.

 

“Our people? The Forsaken?” Gereth asked.

 

“Are no longer forsaken.” Arete replied. “We’ve had mages teleporting in and opening portals for others for the last several hours telling us of the healing and restoration that happened from around the world.”

 

“Andorhal? The Plaguelands?” Gereth asked, realizing that every hope he had maintained at finding the Golden Flame was being realized.

 

“Restored.” The Ebon Blade Commander confirmed for him. “As though no plague had ever touched them. The cities and towns still lay in ruins from the fighting and neglect, but the lands, animals, and people of Quel’thalas and Lordaeron have been completely restored, according to the most recent arrivals, that is.”

 

“The most recent arrivals?” Gereth asked.

 

“Her majesty, the Lady Sylvanas Windrunner arrived an hour ago.” Arete replied. “After our report to her as to what has transpired here, she has requested to meet you when you are feeling well enough.”

 

Gereth was overwhelmed, “The Dark Lady...”

 

“I would not so address her in that way now, brother. There seems nothing but the radiance of the light about her.” Arete returned, his eyes slightly distant. “But that is my own opinion.”

 

Gereth nodded, contemplating his words.

 

“For now, rest and adjust. It is…” Arete searched for the words. Finally, he decided on, “disorienting; at least at first. I will call for someone to bring you some breakfast. I think you’ll find your palate has improved significantly. Until later, brother.”

 

Lord Commander Arete raised a fist to his beating heart in salute to Gereth, and then he turned in salute to Shaggara and bowed reverently to her saying as he took his leave, “My lady.”

 

Then the Death Knight commander left the room, and he and Shaggara were alone.

 

Neither said anything for several minutes as thoughts and feelings churned within them both.

 

“You look younger.” Gereth finally said. “You look as though thirty years younger.”

 

Shaggara’s eyebrows went up. “You are trying to flatter me?” She asked, unsure of herself or him.

 

“Look in a mirror, my dear. I am not the only one who has changed.” Gereth told her.

 

She looked around the room, and then spied a hand mirror on a table. She got up and went to look at herself. She used the mirror awkwardly, as though unfamiliar with how to handle it. But as she looked at her appearance, she saw that her skin was firmer, and what lines that had manifested themselves were gone. The gray in her warrior’s tail was completely gone and her hair felt soft and strong. She looked at her own hands and arms to find young supple skin.

 

 _How could I not have noticed?_ She wondered as she found soft, unwrinkled and unscarred skin all over herself.

 

“How?” She asked. “I look… I look...”

 

“My age.” Gereth replied gently. “Or at least the age I was when the plague hit.”

 

“I don’t know what happened.” Shaggara whispered as she set the mirror down gently. “I didn’t ask them for this. I didn’t ask them to be your age.”

 

Gereth had to take a minute before he responded. The morning presented one overwhelming moment after another to him and internally he didn’t know if he could take any more. But this was his friend. She was, in truth, his best and dearest friend. He found himself sorting through how he really felt about her. Any kind of a romantic relationship with anyone, living or dead had never really been an option since the plague took him. But now…

 

This woman, this truly magnificent, beautiful Orc woman, had, with the exception of the last few when she had retired to her pig farm in Durotar, stood by him for years through life and death situations when most other living had looked at him in disgust. They had fought side by side. Laughed side by side. Kept each other company. What did she truly mean to him as his feelings became clear?

 

He looked at her again, vulnerable and unsure of herself in a way that he had rarely ever seen her before and thought, _Everything._

 

And then he pushed back the covers and threw his legs across the side of the mattress. He then put his bare feet on the floor and stood up. He looked down at himself in wonder to find an athletically muscled body with a light coating of golden blond hair. Linen half breeches covered his newly restored manliness and thighs.

 

He then strode with purpose towards Shaggara, faced her and put his strong, gentle hands on her upper arms and looked into her sparkling eyes. How had he not noticed them before?

 

“Maybe your mind didn’t ask.” Gereth told her. “But your heart did.”

 

A look of surprised hope filled her face as she looked into his handsome, scruffy human face. His sapphire blue eyes and golden blond hair made him look like Zelda’s older, human brother.

 

“Thank you.” Gereth told her.

 

“For what?” She asked.

 

“For this.” He placed his right hand over his beating heart. “And for this.” He then moved his right hand to rest over Shaggara’s heart.

 

“As long as it beats, and even if it should stop again, it will forever belong to you.” He told her, looking into her eyes as he held her.

 

“As will mine belong to you.” Shaggara responded.

 

And then Gereth leaned in, somewhat awkwardly, and Shaggara responded, and as they both closed their eyes, their lips met for the first time, and they stayed there, almost afraid to draw back again.

 

And when they finally drew back, it was as if their whole world had finally been healed.

 

“I love you, Shaggara.” Gereth told her for the first time, but it would not be the last.

 

* * *

 

Later that morning, a wizened older man in the white and gilded robes of a priest of the light stepped into the suite at _A Hero’s Welcome_. His smile for the mage and the Orc woman who had not left his side was real, though many thoughts lay heavy on his mind.

 

“Uncle!” Gereth called to him in joyful greeting.

 

The much younger man had been dressed once more in the red mage’s robes which he had worn in his undeath. His complexion looked remarkably healthy considering. But all that kept coming to Brother Garen’s mind was how much he resembled the sister the priest had lost.

 

“Gereth?” Garen asked.

 

“Yes, it’s me!” The human mage replied coming over quickly to clasp Garen’s hand.

 

“You look… you look well!” Garen said with a genuine smile for him. “I’m so happy for you.”

 

“Thank you, Uncle. Please, won’t you come in and stay a while? And where is Marshall McBride?” Gereth asked. “I had thought he would be with you.”

 

“Has no one told you, Gereth?” Garen asked, looking at Shaggara. The Orc warrior shook her head slowly.

 

“Told me what?” Gereth’s own smile faded.

 

Then Brother Garen related to him what he saw, and how the Marshall had given his own life to save theirs. His voice choked as he spoke.

 

Gereth was silent after his short tale. Then after a time, he nodded and said, placing his hand on the priest’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, Uncle. I know he was your friend.”

 

“I must depart shortly. There are mages and soldiers here from Stormwind who have agreed to open a portal and accompany myself and the Marshall’s body back to his daughter in Northshire. I have a final service to perform for him.” Garen told him.

 

Gereth’s expression fell. “Will you return to Dalaran?” He asked.

 

“If I can. It’s not the easiest place for one such as myself to reach.” Garen told him.

 

Gereth thought for a moment, and then reached into a red silken pouch that was around his waist. Out of it he pulled a small white stone with a cobalt blue spiral rune engraved over it. He closed his eyes and passed his other hand over it, whispering a short incantation over it, “ _Reditum Dalaran_ ”. The blue rune glowed for a brief instant and then was silent again.

 

“Here, take this. It will make your return to us easier.” Gereth told him, placing the stone in the priest’s hand.

 

“What is it?” Garen asked.

 

“It’s called a ‘hearthstone’. I have bound it to this inn here in Dalaran. Whenever you want to return here, just hold on it it tightly, and focus on this city. It will bring you back no matter where in the world you are.” Gereth replied.

 

Garen smiled again. “Thank you, nephew. This is a great gift to me.” He then asked, “Will you and Shaggara then be staying here in Dalaran for a while?”

 

Gereth nodded his head. “I think so. The Kirin Tor have lost their entire leadership, and the city has been decimated. The loss of life in the city is staggering, but the loss of their wisdom and knowledge may even be more so. I intend to stay and help rebuild. Maester Duazhen’s spire is now vacant and, as his former apprentice, I am the closest person to him who can lay claim. One can never be certain, but I believe that is what he would have wanted.”

 

“I can think of few more worthy, nephew.” Garen told him.

 

“And...” Garen continued, “Now that I am human, I can never return to my apartments in Orgrimmar or Silvermoon openly. And Stormwind is not friendly to Orcs. It remains to be seen how the restored people of Lordaeron will align themselves. This city in the sky is and will remain one of the few safe sanctuaries where Shaggara and I may live together in peace.”

 

Garen smiled broadly. “I am truly happy for you both.” He told him.”And you will always have an open welcome in Northshire, both of you. I will ensure it.”

 

Then Garen motioned for Shaggara to come over next to him as well. Then, as she did, the older priest set one hand on Gereth’s shoulder, and one on Shaggara’s, blessing them both in the name of the Holy Light.

 

* * *

 

Zelda and Link could remainin Dalaran no longer. They, and their pieces of the Triforce had already been gone from Hyrule for far too long. They were both keenly aware that the consequences on their land of Zelda’s prolonged absence in particular could be devastating to their world. After they had spent some small amount of peaceful time with their remaining companions, there still remained the task of locating a way back to Hyrule.

 

Link had recalled from his most ancient memories that those who first created the link between Duo’oni and Azeroth, would have also created a book to be able to transport themselves back. They wouldn’t have attempted to use the portal created by a Descriptive Book without at least one held here on the other side.

 

The question then became, Where was it? And could it have survived for ten thousand years?

 

The only place either he or Zelda knew for certain that might hold that answer lay under the ruins of Forest Song in the province of Ashenvale. With Gereth’s assistance with opening a portal, they and Oliver returned to the Night Elf excavation site. The Gilnean Master Druid accompanied them in order to see his and Marshall McBride’s promise to Link through to the end.

 

They arrived to find the ruins nearly empty. Gone were most of the Draenei and Kaldorei researchers and guards. Only a handful were left, and these paid no attention to the tower which was the small party’s focus.

 

Once more, Zelda opened the stone door with the notes of the “lullaby” she had been taught as a child. They all entered and went down the stairwell and into the arboretum. There, the ancient guardians slumbered, their roots plunged deep into the soil.

 

“They may not allow you to pass.” Zelda warned Oliver, remembering her last encounter with them.

 

“They appear to be sleeping.” He replied as he crouched down and put his hand on the rich loam of the ground beneath him. He reached out to the living energies of the ancients and the treants, feeling them, understanding them. He then sent out his own message to them.

 

_Sleep still, and waken not, faithful guardians. There are no enemies here._

 

He waited for a few minutes, and then felt an unconscious acknowledgement. Satisfied, he stood up. “I believe they will not bother with any of us.” He told her.

 

Zelda looked at the Druid with surprise, and a new respect for his abilities. She then looked at Link who nodded at her and smiled.

 

They continued forward, through the peacefully sleeping trees and on through the stone doorway to the other side. Soon, they found themselves in the still active control room of the temple. And Zelda found herself standing once more in front of the pedestal.

 

Hovering her hand over it, she spoke, “Fi.”

 

The voice of the long dead friend responded, “Greetings again, Lady Hylia. How may I serve you?”

 

Zelda smiled. “I seek the location of the _reditolibram_ for Duo’oni.”

 

Fi’s voice responded almost instantly. “The last known repository of the _reditolibram_ for Duo’oni is was in the library of this facility. Records indicate that it has not been moved.”

 

Zelda let out her breath. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. “Thank you, Fi. Display the location of the library relative to this control room, please.”

 

“Of course.” Fi’s voice responded as a three dimensional map of the expansive temple complex appeared in front of them all. It rotated and zoomed several different ways until it displayed only the room in which they were, and the path they would need to take to reach the library.

 

“It’s not far from here.” Link observed as he studied the map.

 

Oliver wasn’t certain what to make of all of it. He had heard of similar magic and technologies described to him by more adventurous brother Druids, but had never truly seen it before now. It was a wonder to him. And as he considered that, he realized that was why he could not continue to follow.

 

“I must go no further.” He told them. “My place is in the world above us. I fear the temptations of such a library may get the better of me.”

 

Link turned to his mentor and nodded in understanding. “I suppose this is goodbye then?” He asked.

 

“I am afraid so.” Oliver replied holding out his human hand. “It was an honor to know and teach you, my friend.”

 

“It was an honor to be taught by you, Master Druid. I will remember your lessons well. Perhaps they will serve me in my own land.” Link responded, taking the Druid’s hand in his own.

 

Then Oliver turned to Zelda and bowed deeply saying, “My Lady, may you both find peace wherever you go.”

 

“Thank you.” Zelda replied with a smile.

 

“I will see myself out. I trust the entry portal was meant to keep people out, and not in?” He asked.

 

“Yes. That is how my mother designed it.” Zelda replied.

 

“Farewell, then.” He said one last time, and turning, left the control room and headed back through the arboretum.

 

“I guess it’s time for us to go home too.” Link then said, turning to Zelda.

 

“I suppose it is.” She said, somewhat sadly.

 

“Do you think they’ll be alright here?” Link asked. “Now that their Triforce has been found and used?”

 

Zelda smiled, her heart telling her the answer. “I think they will do well. Hyrule has only us. Azeroth is filled with heroes on both sides willing to do whatever it takes. That’s the reason why it has survived for this long without the use of their Golden Flame, and why Sargeras could never conquer it.”

 

Link nodded his agreement. Then he said, “Let’s go home.”

 

THE END


End file.
